LIBRARY 

ST*T~  TEMWEJPf  C"L*  ROE 

SA   TA/.fc*&RA.  CALIFORNIA 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  CIVILIZATION, 


FALL  OF  THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE 

TO 

THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION 


BY  t  GUIZOT. 


THE    PRIME     MINISTER    OF    FRANCE; 
AUTHOR    OF   "HISTORY    OF   THE    ENGLISH    REVOLUTION    OK    1640 ' 


TRANSLATED  BY  WILLIAM  IIAZLITT. 


VOLUME   II. 


NEW   YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

90,   92  &   94  GRAND    STREET. 
1870. 


Q.6 

n\ 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  following  Lectures  were  delivered  by  M.  Guizoi 
in  the  years  1828,  1829,  and  1830,  at  the  Old  Sortnnnc 
now  the  seat  of  the  Faculte  des  Lettrcs,  of  Paris,  on  al- 
ternate days  with  MM.  Cousin  and  Villemain,  a  triad  of 
lecturers  whose  brilliant  exhibitions,  the  crowds  which 
thronged  their  lecture-rooms,  and  the  stir  they  excited  in 
the  active  and  aspiring  minds  so  numerous  among  the 
French  youth,  the  future  historian  will  commemorate  as 
among  the  remarkable  appearances  of  that  important 
era. 

The  first  portion  of  these  Lectures,  those  comprising 
the  General  History  of  Civilization  in  Europe,  have  al- 
ready appeared.  The  Lectures  on  the  History  of  Civili- 
zation in  France,  are  now  for  the  first  time  translated. 
Of  these  Lectures,  it  is  most  justly  observed  by  the 
Edinburgh  Review :  "  There  is  a  consistency,  a  cohe- 
rence, a  comprehensiveness,  and  what  the  Germans 
would  term  many-sidedness,  in  the  manner  of  M  Gui 
zot's  fulfilment  of  his  task,  that  manifests  him  one  to 
whom  the  whole  subject  is  familiar ;  that  exhibits  a  full 


VI  ADVERTISEMENT.       • 

poisession  of  the  facts  which  have  any  important  bearing 
upon  his  conclusions  ;  and  a  deliberateness,  a  matureness 
an  entire  absence  of  haste  or  crudity,  in  his  explanations 
of  historical  phenomena,  which  giv  e  evidence  of  a  general 
scheme  so  well  wrought  out  and  digested  beforehand, 
that  the  labors  of  research  and  of  thought  necessary  for 
the  whole  work,  seem  to  have  been  performed  before  any 
part  was  committed  to  paper." 


CONTENTS, 


FIRST  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  course — Two  methods  of  studying  in  detail  the  history  at 
European  civilization — Reasons  for  preferring  the  study  of  the  history 
of  the  civilization  of  a  particular  country — Reasons  for  studying  that 
of  France — Of  the  essential  facts  which  constitute  the  perfection  of 
civilization — Comparison  of  the  great  European  nations  under  this 
point  of  view — Of  civilization  in  England — Germany — Italy — Spain 
— France — French  civilization  is  the  most  complete,  and  offers  the 
most  faithful  representation  of  civilization  in  general — That  the  stu- 
dent has  other  things  to  bear  in  mind  besides  the  mero  study — Of  tho 
present  prevailing  tendencies  in  the  intellectual  order — Of  the  prevail- 
ing tendencies  in  the  social  order — Two  problems  resulting  therefrom 
— Their  apparent  contradiction — Our  times  are  called  upon  to  solve 
them — A  third  and  purely  moral  problem,  rendered  equally  important 
by  the  present  state  of  civilization — The  unjust  reproaches  of  which 
it  is  the  object — The  necessity  of  meeting  them — All  science,  in  the 
present  day,  exerts  a  social  influence — All  power  should  tend  to  the 
moral  perfection  of  the  individual,  as  well  as  to  the  improvement  of 
society  iu  general p.  9 


SECOND  LECTURE. 

Necessity  of  reading  a  general  history  of  France,  before  wo  study  that  of 
civilizatvm — M.  (le  Sismondi's  work — Why  wo  should  study  the  politi- 
cal staid  of  a  country  before  its  moral  state,  the  history  of  society 
before  that  of  man — The  social  state  of  Gaul  in  tho  fifth  century — 
Original  monuments  &.:d  modern  works  descriptive  of  thut  subject — 
Difference  between  the  civil  and  religious  society  of  that  period — Im- 
perial government  of  Gaul-— Tho  provincial  governors — Their  official 
esiablishments-^Their  salaries — Benefits  and  defects  of  the  adminis- 
tration— Fall  of  the  Roman  empire — Gaulish  society :  1.  Tho  senators ; 
2.  The  curiales;  3.  The  people  ;  4.  Tho  slaves — Public  relations  of 
these  various  classes — Decline  and  helplessness  of  Gaulish  civil  socie- 
ty— Causes  of  this — Tho  people  attach  themselves  to  tho  religious 
community   ...  ...  •     •     y  29 


CON  TENTS. 


THIRD  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Variety  of  the  principles  and  forms  of  religious  so- 
ciety  in  Europe — Classification  of  the  different  systems,  1.  According 
to  the  relations  of  the  church  in  the  state ;  2.  According  to  the  inter- 
nal constitution  of  the  church — All  these  systems  assign  their  origin 
to  the  primitive  church — Critical  examination  of  these  pretensions^ 
They  have  all  a  certain  degree  of  foundation — Fluctuation  and  com- 
plexity of  the  external  situation  and  internal  position  of  Christian 
society  from  the  first  to  the  fifth  century — Predominant  tendencies — 
Prevalent  facts  of  the  fifth  century — Causes  of  liberty  in  the  church  at 
this  period — The  election  of  bishops — Councils — Comparison  of  reli- 
gious with  civil  society — Of  the  chiefs  of  these  two  societies — Letters 
of  Sidonius  Apollinaris    .  ....  ....         .     p.  55 


FOURTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — What  must  be  understood  by  the  moral  state  of  a 
society — Reciprocal  influence  of  the  social  state  upon  the  moral  state, 
and  of  the  moral  state  upon  the  social  state — At  the  fourth  century, 
civil  Gaulish  society  alone  possessed  institutions  favorable  to  intel- 
lectual development — Gaulish  schools — Legal  situation  of  tlie  profes- 
sors— Religious  society  has  no  other  mediums  of  development  and 
influence  than  its  ideas — Still  one  languishes  and  the  other  prospers — 
Decline  of  the  civil  schools — Activity  of  the  Christian  society — Saint 
Jerome,  Saint  Augustin,  and  Saint  Paulin  of  Nola — Their  correspond- 
ence with  Gaul — Foundation  and  character  of  monasteries  in  Gaul — 
Causes  of  the  difference  of  the  moral  state  of  the  two  societies — Com- 
parative view  of  the  civil  literature  and  the  Christian  literature  in  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries — Inequality  of  the  liberty  of  mind  in  the 
two  societies — Necessity  for  religion  lending  its  aid  to  studies  and 
letters p.  84 


FIFTH  LECTURE. 

Of  the  principal  questions  debated  in  Gaul  in  the  fifth  century — Of  Pela- 
gianism — Of  the  method  to  follow  in  its  history — Of  the  moral  facts 
which  gave  place  to  this  controversy :  1st,  of  human  liberty  ;  2d,  of 
the  impotency  of  liberty,  and  tne  necessity  for  an  external  succor ; 
3d,  of  the  influence  of  external  circumstances  upon  liberty ;  4th,  of 
the  moral  changes  which  happen  in  the  soul,  without  man  attributing 
them  to  his  will — Of  the  questions  which  naturally  arose  from  these 
facts — Of  the  special  point  of  view  under  which  we  should  consider 
them  in  the  Christian  church  in  the  fifth  century — History  of  Pelagian- 
ism  at  Rome,  in  Africa,  in  the  East,  and  in  Gaul — Pelagius — Celestius 
— Saint  Augustin — History  of  semi-Pelagianism — Cassienus — Faustus 
— Saint  Prosper  of  Aquitaine — Of  predestination — Influence  and  gen- 
eral results  of  this  controversy .p.  104 


CONTENTS. 


SIXTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — General  character  of  the  literature  of  the  middlo 
ages — Of  the  transition  from  pagan  philosophy  to  Christian  theology — 
Of  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the  soul  in  the  Christian  church — The 
ancient  priests  for  the  most  part  pronounced  in  favor  of  the  system  of 
materialism — Efforts  to  escape  from  it — Analogous  march  of  ideas  in 
pagan  philosophy — Commencement  of  the  system  of  spirituality — 
Saint  Augustin,  Nemesius,  Mamertius  Claudienus — Faustus,  bishop  of 
Itiez — His  arguments  for  the  materiality  of  the  soul — Mamertius  Clau- 
dienus answers  him — Importance  of  Mamertius Claudieuus  in  Gaul — 
Analysis  of,  and  quotations  from  his  treatise  on  the  nature  of  the  soul 
— The  dialogue  of  Evagrius  between  Zacheus  the  Christian  and  Apol- 
louius  the  philosopher — Of  the  effects  of  the  invasion  of  the  barba- 
rians upon  the  moral  state  of  GauL p.  130 

SEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Of  the  Germanic  element  in  modern  civilization — 
Of  the  monuments  of  the  ancient  social  state  of  the  Germans:  1.  Of 
the  Roman  and  Greek  historians  ;  2.  Of  the  barbaric  laws ;  3.  Of  na- 
tional traditions — They  relate  to  very  different  epochs — They  are  often 
made  use  of  promiscuously — Error  which  results  therefrom — The 
work  of  Tacitus  concerning  the  manners  of  the  Germans — Opinions 
of  the  modern  German  writers  concerning  the  ancient  Germanic 
state — What  kind  of  life  prevailed  there,  was  it  the  wandering  life, 
or  the  sedentary  life? — Of  the  institutions — Of  the  moral  state — 
Comparison  between  the  state  of  the  German  tribes  and  that  of  other 
hordes — Fallacy  of  most  of  the  views  of  barbarous  life — Principal 
Characteristics  of  the  true  influence  of  the  Germans  upon  modern  civi- 
lization   .     p.  145 

EIGHTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Description  of  the  state  of  Gaul  in  the  last  half  oi 
the  sixth  century — True  character  of  the  German  invasions — Cause 
of  errors  on  this  subject— Dissolution  of  Roman  society  :  1.  In  rural 
districts ;  2.  In  towns,  though  in  a  lesser  degree — Dissolution  of  Ger- 
man society :  1.  Of  the  colony  or  tribe  ;  2.  Of  the  warfaring  band — 
Elements  of  the  new  social  state:  1.  Of  commencing  royalty;  2. 
Of  commencing  feudalism;  3.  Of  the  church  after  the  invasion — 
Summary. - p.  167 

NINTH  LECTURE. 

Obpctof  the  lecture — False  idea  of  the  Salic  law — History  of  the  forma- 
tion of  this  law — Two  hypotheses  upon  this  matter — Eighteen  manu- 
scripts— Two  texts  of  the  Salic  law — M.  "Wiarda's  work  upon  tin* 
!• 


CONTENTS. 

history  and  exposition  of  the  Salic  law — Prefaces  attached  to  th« 
manuscripts — Value  of  national  traditions  concerning  the  origin  and 
compilation  of  the  Salic  law — Concerning  its  tendencies — It  is  essen- 
tially a  penal  code — 1st.  Of  the  enumeration  and  definition  of  offences 
in  the  Salic  law ;  2d.  Of  penalties ;  3d.  Of  criminal  proctdure — 
Transitory  character  of  their  legislation   ...         .     .    .    .    p  184 


TENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Is  the  transitory  character  of  the  Salic  law  found 
in  the  laws  of  the  Ripuarians,  the  Burgundians,  and  the  Visigoths  ? — 
1st.  The  law  of  the  Ripuarians — The  Ripuarian  Franks — History  o) 
the  compilation  of  their  law — Its  contents — Difference  between  it  and 
the  Salic  law — 2d.  The  law  of  the  Burgundians — History  of  its  com- 
pilation— Its  contents — Its  distinctive  character — 3d.  The  law  of  the 
Visigoths — It  concerns  the  history  of  Spain  more  than  that  of  France 
— Its  general  character — Effect  of  Roman  civilization  upon  the  bar- 
barians    p.  204 


ELEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Perpetuity  of  the  Roman  law  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire — Of  the  History 
of  the  Roman  law  in  the  Middle  Ages,  by  M.  de  Savigny — Merits  anil 
deficiencies  of  this  work — 1.  Roman  law  among  the  Visigoths — Brevia- 
rium  Aniani,  collected  by  command  of  Alaric — History  and  contents  of 
this  collection — -2.  Roman  law  among  the  Burgundians — Papiani  Res- 
ponsorum — History  and  contents  of  this  law — 3.  Roman  law  among  th6 
Franks — No  new  collection — The  perpetuity  of  Roman  law  proved  by 
various  facts — Recapitulati  n  .    .    p.  225 


TWELFTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — State  of  the  church  in  Gaul,  from  the  sixth  to  the 
middle  of  the  eighth  century — Analogy  between  the  primitive  state  of 
the  religious  society  and  the  civil  society — The  unity  of  the  church  or 
the  spiritual  society — Two  elements  or  conditions  of  spiritual  society  ; 
1st.  Unity  of  truth,  that  is  to  say,  of  absolute  reason ;  2d.  Liberty  of 
minds,  or  individual  reason — State  of  these  two  ideas  in  the  Christian 
church  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century — She  adopts  one  and  rejects 
the  other — Unity  of  the  church  in  legislation — General  councils — Differ- 
ence between  the  eastern  and  the  western  church  as  regards  the  perse- 
cution of  heretics — Relations  of  the  church  with  the  state,  from  the  sixth 
to  the  eighth  century ;  1st,  in  the  eastern  empire ;  2d,  ir  the  west,  es- 
pecially in  Frankish  Gaul — Interference  of  the  temporal  power  in  the 
affairs  of  the  church — Of  the  spiritual  power  in  the  affairs  af  the  state — 
Recapitulation ...     p.  237 


CONTENTS. 


THIRTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Of  the  internal  organization  and  state  of  the  Gallo-Frankish  church,  froir 
the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century — Characteristic  facts  of  the  Gaulish 
church  at  the  fifth  century — What  became  of  them  after  the  invasion — 
The  exclusive  domination  of  the  clergy  in  the  religious  society  continues 
— Facts  which  modify  it :  1.  Separation  of  ordination  and  tenure  ;  priests 
not  ecclesiastics — 2.  Patronage  by  laymen  of  the  churches  which  they 
founded — 3.  Oratories,  or  particular  chapels — 4.  Advocates  of  the 
churches — Picture  of  the  general  organization  of  the  church — Parishes 
and  their  priests — Archpriests  and  archdeacons — Bishops — Archbishops 
— Attempts  to  establish  the  patriarchates  in  the  west — Fall  of  the  arch- 
bishops— Preponderance  and  despotism  of  tho  episcopacy — Struggle  of 
the  priests  and  parishes  against  the  bishops — The  bishops  triumphant — 
Despotism  corrupts  them — Decline  of  the  secular  clergy — Necessity 
for  a  reformation p  255 


FOURTEENTH  LECTURE. 

History  of  the  regular  clergy,  or  the  monks,  from  toe  sixth  to  the  eighth 
century — That  the  monks  were  at  first  laymen — Importance  of  this 
fact — Origin  and  progressive  development  of  tho  monastic  life  in  the 
east — First  rules — Importation  of  the  monks  into  the  west — They  are 
ill  received  there — Their  first  progress — Difference  between  eastern  and 
western  monasteries — Opinion  of  St  Jerome,  as  to  the  errors  of  the 
monastic  life — General  causes  of  its  extension — State  of  the  monks  in 
the  west  in  the  fifth  century — Their  power  and  their  want  of  coherence 
— Saint  Benedict — His  life — He  founds  the  monastery  of  Monte  Cas- 
sino — Analysis  and  estimate  of  his  rule — It  diffuses  itself  throughout 
the  Wist,  and  becomes  predominant  in  almost  all  the  monasteries 
there p.  279 


FIFTEENTH  LECTURE. 

The  relations  of  the  monks  with  the  clergy,  from  the  fourth  to  the  eighth 
century — Their  primitive  independence— Causes  of  its  decline — 1.  In 
proportion  as  the  number  and  the  power  of  the  monks  were  augmented, 
the  bishops  extended  their  jurisdiction  over  them — Canons  of  the  coun- 
cils— 2.  The  monks  demand  and  obtain  privileges — 3.  They  aspire  to 
enter  into  the  clergy — Differences  and  contests  among  the  monks 
themselves  upon  this  subject — The  bishops  at  first  repulse  their  preten- 
sions— They  give  way  to  them — In  entering  into  the  clergy  the  monks 
lose  their  independence — Tyranny  of  the  bishops  over  tho  monasteries 
— Resistance  of  the  monks — Charters  granted  by  the  bishops  to  some 
monasteries — The  monks  have  recourse  to  the  protection  of  the  kings, 
to  that  of  the  popes — Character  and  limits  of  the  intervention — Simi- 
larity between  the  struggle  of  the  monasteries  against  the  bishops,  and 
that  of  the  commons  against  the  feudal  lords  .  p.  30# 


CONTENTS. 


SIXTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Frow  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century  all  profane  literature  disappeared ; 
sacred  literature  alone  remained — This  is  evident  in  the  schools  and 
writings  of  this  epoch — 1.  Of  the  schools  in  Gaul  from  the  sixth  to  the 
eighth  century — Cathedral  schools — Rural  schools — Monastic  schools 
— What  they  taught  there — 2.  Of  the  writings  of  the  day — General 
character  of  literature — It  ceased  to  be  speculative,  and  to  seek  more 
especially  science  and  intellectual  enjoyments ;  it  became  practical ; 
knowledge,  eloquence,  writings,  were  made  means  of  action — Influence 
of  this  characteristic  upon  the  idea  formed  of  the  intellectual  state  at 
this  epoch — It  produced  scarcely  any  works ;  it  has  no  literature,  prop- 
erly so  called  ;  still  minds  were  active — Its  literature  consists  in  ser- 
mons and  legends — Bishops  and  missionaries — 1st.  Of  Saint  Cesaire, 
bishop  of  Aries — Of  his  sermons — 2d.  Of  Saint  Columban,  missiona- 
ry, and  abbot  of  Luxeuil — Character  of  sacred  eloquence  at  this 
epoch ...  p.  317 


SEVENTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Preface  of  the  Old  Mortality  of  Walter  Scott — Robert  Patterson — Preface 
of  the  Vie  de  Saint  Marcellin,  bishop  of  Embrun,  written  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  sixth  century — Saint  Ceran,  bishop  of  Paris — 
Eagerness  of  the  Christians  of  these  times  to  collect  the  traditions  and 
monuments  of  the  life  of  the  saints  and  martyrs — Statistics  of  this 
branch  of  sacred  literature — Collection  of  the  Bollandists — Cause  of  the 
number  and  popularity  of  legends — They  almost  alone  satisfy  at  this 
epoch — 1.  The  wants  of  the  moral  nature  of  man — Examples :  Life 
of  Saint  Bavon,  of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  of  Saint  Valery — 2.  The 
wants  of  physical  nature — Examples :  Life  of  Saint  Germain  of  Paris, 
of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  of  Saint  Rusticulus,  of  Saint  Sulpicius  of 
Bourges — 3.  The  wants  of  the  imagination — Examples :  Life  of  Saint 
Seine,  of  Saint  Austregesilus — Literary  defects  and  merits  of  le- 
gends    .         p.  337 


EIGHTEENTH  LECTURE. 

St  me  wrecks  of  profane  literature  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century— 
Of  their  true  character — 1st.  Prose  writers — Gregory  of  Tours — His 
life — His  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  Franks — The  influence  of  the 
ancient  Latin  literature  unites  with  that  of  the  Christian  doctrines — 
Mixture  of  civil  and  religious  history — Fre'degaire — His  Chronicles — 
2d.  Poets — Saint  Avitus,  bishop  of  Vienne — His  life — His  poems  on 
the  creation — Original  sin — The  condemnation  of  man — The  deluge 
— The  passage  of  the  Red  Sea — The  praise  of  virginity — Comparison 
of  the  three  first  with  the  Paradise  Lost  of  Milton — Fortunatus,  bishop 
of  Poictiers — His  life — His  relations  with  Saint  Radegonde — His  poems 
— Their  character — First  origin  of  French  literature      ...    p.  355 


CONTENTS. 


NINETEENTH  LECTURE. 

The  causes  and  the  character  of  the  revolution  which  substituted  the  Car« 
!ovmgians  for  the  Merovingians — Recapitulation  of  the  history  of  civi« 
lization  in  France  under  the  Merovingian  kings — The  Frankisb  stats 
in  its  relations  with  the  neighboring  nations — The  Frankish  state  in  \*r 
internal  organization — The  aristocratical  element  prevailed  in  it,  br* 
without  entirety  or  regularity — The  state  of  the  Frankish  church.  - 
Episcopacy  prevails  in  it,  but  is  itself  thrown  into  decay — Two  n*> 
powers  arise — 1.  The  Austrasian  Franks — Mayors  of  the  palace — Ti 
family  of  the  Pepins — 2.  Papacy — Circumstances  favorable  to  its  pn 
gress— Causes  which  drew  and  united  the  Austrasian  Franks  to  th< 
popes — The  conversion  of  the  Germans  beyond  tho  Rhine — Relation 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  missioaaries,  on  the  one  hand  with  the  popes,  o.- 
the  other,  with  the  mayors  of  tho  palace  of  Austrasia — Saint  Bonifai- 
— The  popes  have  need  of  the  Austrasian  Franks  ap;ahist  the  Low  • 
bards — Pepin -le-Bref  has  need  of  the  pope  to  make  hhiwelf  king-- 
Their  alliance,  and  the  new  direction  which  it  ir.ir ^csa-.d  upon  civili- 
zation— Conclusion  of  the  first  part  of  the  course  .  p.  37£ 


TWENTIETH  LECTURE. 

Reign  of  Charlemagne — Greatness  of  his  name — Is  it  true  that  he  settled 
nothing?  that  all  that  he  did  has  perished  with  him? — Of  the  action 
of  great  men — They  play  a  double  part — That  vhich  they  do  in  virtue 
of  the  first,  is  durable ;  that  which  they  atteirpt  under  the  second, 
passes  away  with  them — Example  of  Napoleon — Necessity  of  being 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  history  of  events  under  Charlemagne, 
in  order  to  understand  that  of  civilization — How  the  events  may  be 
recapitulated  in  tables — 1.  Charlemagne  as  a  warrior  and  conqueror : 
Table  of  his  principal  expeditions — Their  meaning  and  results — 
2.  Charlemagne  as  an  administrator  and  legislator — Of  the  government 
of  the  provinces — Of  the  central  government — Table  of  national  as- 
semblies under  his  reign — Table  of  his  capitularies — Table  of  the  acta 
and  documents  which  remain  of  this  epoch — 3.  Charlemagne  as  a  pro. 
tector  of  intellectual  development:  Table cf  the  celebrated  coutempo- 
raneous  men — Estimation  of  tho  general  r.«ults,  and  of  the  charade! 
of  his  reign .         .    .    p.  317 


HISTORY 

OF 

CIVILIZATION    IN     FRANCE 

FROM  THE  FALL  OF  THE  ROM  4*1  EMPIRE. 


LECTURE  THE  FIRST. 

Object  of  the  course — Two  methods  of  studying  in.  detail  the  history 
of  European  civilization — Reasons  for  preferring  the  study  of  the 
history  of  the  civilization  of   a  particular   country — Reasons    for 

m  studying  that  of  France — Of  the  essential  facts  which  constitute  the 
perfection  of  civilization — Comparison  of  the  great  European  nations 
under  this  point  of  view — Of  civilization  in  England — Germany — 
Italy — Spain— France — French  civilization  is  the  most  complete, 
and  offers  the  most  faithful  representation  of  civilization  in  general 
— That  the  student  has  other  things  to  bear  in  mind  besides  the 
mere  study — Of  the  present  prevailing  tendencies  in  the  intellec- 
tual order — Of  the  prevailing  tendencies  in  the  social  order — Two 
problems  resulting  therefrom — Their  apparent  contradiction — Our 
times  are  called  upon  to  solve  them — A  third  and  purely  moral 
problem,  rendered  equally  important  by  the  present  state  of  civili- 
zation— The  unjust  reproaches  of  which  it  is  the  object — The  ne- 
cessity of  meeting  them — All  science,  in  the  present  day,  exerts  a 
social  influence — All  power  should  tend  to  the  moral  perfection  of 
the  individual,  as  well  as  to  the  improvement  of  society  in  general. 

Many  of  you  will  call  to  mind  the  nature  and  aim  of  a 
course  of  lectures  which  were  brought  to  a  close  some  months 
since.  That  course  was  cursory  and  of  a  general  nature. 
I  then  attempted,  in  a  very  short  period  of  time,  to  place  be. 
fore  you  an  historical  view  of  European  civilization.  I 
hastened,  as  it  were,  from  point  to  point,  confining  myself 
strictly  to  general  facts  and  assertions,  at  the  risk  of  being 
sometimes  misunderstood  and  perhaps  discredited. 

Necessity,  as  you  know,  imposed  this  method  upon  me ; 
but  in  spite  of  this  necessity  I  should  have  been  much  pained 


10  HISTOKY    OF 

by  the  inconveniences  which  arose  from  it,  had  I  not  foreseen 
that  in  a  future  course  I  should  be  enabled  to  remedy  it ;  and 
had  I  not  proposed  to  myself,  at  the  time,  to  complete,  at  some 
future  period,  the  outline  which  I  then  traced,  and  of  leading 
you  to  the  general  results  which  I  placed  before  you,  by  the 
same  path  which  I  myself  had  followed,  an  attentive  and 
complete  study  of  the  facts.  Such  is  the  end  at  which  I  now 
aim. 

Two  methods  offer  themselves  as  tending  to  the  attainment 
of  the  proposed  end.  I  might  either  recommence  the  course 
of  last  summer,  and  review  the  general  history  of  European 
civilization  in  its  whole  extent,  by  giving  in  detail  that  which 
it  was  impossible  to  give  in  mass,  and  by  again  passing  over 
with  more  leisurely  steps  that  ground  which  before  was  gone 
over  in  almost  breathless  haste.  Or  I  might  study  the  history 
of  civilization  in  a  single  great  country,  in  one  of  the  princi- 
pal European  nations  in  which  it  has  been  developed,  and 
thus,  by  confining  the  field  of  my  researches,  be  the  better 
enabled  thoroughly  to  explore  it. 

The  first  method  seemed  to  offer  serious  inconveniences. 
It  would  be  very  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  maintain  any^ 
unity  in  a  history  with  so  extensive  a  range,  and  which,  at 
the  same  time,  should  be  perfect  in  all  its  details.  We  dis- 
covered last  summer,  that  there  was  a  true  unity  running 
through  European  civilization  ;  but  this  unity  is  only  visible 
in  general  actions  and  grand  results.  We  must  ascend  the 
highest  mountain  before  the  petty  inequalities  and  diversities 
of  the  surface  will  become  invisible,  and  before  we  can  dis- 
cover the  general  aspect,  and  the  true  and  essential  nature 
of  the  entire  country.  When  we  quit  general  facts  and  wish 
to  look  into  particulars,  the  unity  vanishes,  the  diversities 
again  appear,  and  in  the  variety  of  occurrences  one  loses 
sight  of  both  causes  and  effects ;  so  that  to  give  a  detailed 
history,  and  still  to  preserve  some  harmony,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  narrow  the  field  of  inquiry. 

There  is  also  another  great  objection  to  this  method,  in  the 
immense  extent  and  diversity  of  knowledge  which  it  pre- 
supposes and  requires  both  in  the  speaker  and  his  audience. 
Those  who  wish  to  trace  with  moderate  accuracy  the  course 
of  European  civilization  should  have  a  sufficiently  intimate 
acquaintance,  not  only  with  the  events  which  have  passed 
among  each  people,  with  their  history,  but  likewise,  with 
their  language,  literature,  and  philosophy,  in  short,  with  all 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  11 

phases  of  their  career;  a  work  which  is  evidently  almost  im- 
possible, and  certainly  so  in  the  time  which  wo  could  spend 
upon  it. 

It  appears  to  me,  that  by  studying  the  history  of  civiliza- 
tion in  one  great  European  nation,  I  shall  arrive  more 
quickly  at  the  desired  result.  The  unity  of  the  narrative 
will  then,  indeed,  be  compatible  with  details ;  there  is  in  every 
country  a  certain  national  harmony,  which  is  the  result  of 
the  community  of  manners,  laws,  language,  and  events,  and 
this  harmony  is  imprinted  in  the  civilization.  We  may  pass 
from  fact  to  fact  without  losing  sight  of  the  whole  picture. 
And  lastly,  though  I  will  not  say  that  it  can  easily  be  done, 
it  is  yet  possible  to  combine  the  knowledge  necessary  for  such 
a  work. 

I  have  therefore  decided  upon  this  second  method,  upon 
that  of  abandoning  the  general  history  of  European  civiliza- 
tion, in  all  the  nations  which  have  contributed  thereto,  and 
confining  myself  to  the  civilization  of  one  country,  which,  if 
we  note  the  differences  between  it  and  other  countries,  may 
become,  for  our  purpose,  an  image  of  the  whole  destiny  of 
Europe. 

The  choice  of  method  being  once  made,  that  of  a  nation 
easily  follows  ;  I  have  taken  the  history  and  civilization  of 
France.  I  shall  certainly  not  deny  having  experienced  a 
sensation  of  pleasure  while  making  this  choice.  No  one  will 
deny  that  the  emotions  of  patriotism  are  legitimate,  provided 
they  be  sanctioned  by  truth  and  reason.  Some  there  are,  in 
the  present  day,  who  seem  to  fear  that  patriotism  suffers  much 
from  the  enlargement  of  ideas  and  sentiments,  arising  from 
the  actual  state  of  European  civilization  ;  they  predict  that 
it  will  become  enervated,  and  lose  itself  in  cosmopolitism. 
I  cannot  share  such  fears.  In  the  present  day,  it  will  be  with 
patriotism  as  with  all  human  actions,  feelings,  and  opinions. 
It  is  condemned,  I  admit,  incessantly  to  undergo  the  test  of 
publicity,  of  inquiry  and  discussion ;  it  is  condemned  no 
longer  to  remain  a  mere  prejudice,  habit,  or  a  blind  ana  ex- 
clusive passion  ;  it  must  give  a  reason  for  itself.  It  will  be 
oppressed  by  this  necessity  no  more  than  any  natural  ana 
legitimate  feelings  are ;  on  the  contrary,  it  will  become  re- 
fined and  elevated.  These  arc  the  tests  to  which  it  must 
submit,  and  it  will  soar  above  them.  I  can  truly  say,  if 
any  other  history  in  Europe  had  appeared  to  me  greater,  more 
instructive,  or  better  suited  to  represent  the  general  course 


12  HISTORY   OF 

of  civilization  than  that  of  France,  I  should  have  chosen  it. 
But  I  have  reasons  for  selecting  France ;  independently  of 
the  special  interest  which  its  history  has  for  us,  France  has 
long  since  been  proclaimed  by  all  Europe  the  most  civilized 
of  its  nations.  Whenever  the  opinion  of  the  struggle  has  not 
been  between  the  national  all-love,  when  one  seeks  the  true 
and  disinterested  opinion  of  people  in  the  ideas  and  actions 
wherein  it  manifests  itself  indirectly,  without  taking  the  form 
of  a  controversy,  we  find  that  France  is  acknowledged  to  be 
the  country  in  which  civilization  has  appeared  in  its  most 
complete  form,  where  it  has  been  most  communicative,  and 
where  it  has  most  forcibly  struck  the  European  imagination. 

And  we  must  not  suppose,  that  the  superiority  of  this 
country  is  solely  attributable  to  the  amenity  of  our  social  re- 
lations, to  the  gentleness  of  our  manners,  or  to  that  easy  and 
animated  life  which  people  so  often  come  to  seek  among  us. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  partly  arises  from  these  attri- 
butes ;  but  the  fact  of  which  I  speak  has  more  profound  and 
universal  causes:  it  is  not  a  fashion,  as  might  have  been 
supposed  when  the  question  was  concerning  the  civilization 
of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  neither  is  it  a  popular  ebullition, 
as  a  view  of  our  own  times  would  lead  us  to  suppose.  The 
preference  which  the  disinterested  opinion  of  Europe  accords 
to  French  civilization  is  philosophically  just ;  it  is  the  result 
of  an  instinctive  judgment,  doubtless  in  some  measure  con- 
fused, but  well  based,  upon  the  essential  elements  and  general 
nature  of  civilization. 

You  will  call  to  mind  the  definition  of  civilization  I  at- 
tempted to  give  in  the  commencement  of  the  former  course 
of  lectures.  I  there  sought  to  discover  what  ideas  attach 
themselves  to  this  word  in  the  common  use  of  men.  It  ap- 
peared to  me,  on  a  reference  to  general  opinion,  that  civiliza- 
tion essentially  consists  of  two  principles  ;  the  improvement 
of  the  exterior  and  general  condition  of  man,  and  that  of  his 
inward  and  personal  nature  ;  in  a  word,  in  the  improvement 
both  of  society  and  of  humanity. 

And  it  is  not  these  two  principles  of  themselves,  which  con- 
stitute civilization ;  to  bring  it  to  perfection,  their  intimate  and 
rapid  union,  simultaneousness,  and  reciprocal  action,  are  ab- 
solutely necessary.  I  showed  that  if  they  do  not  always 
arrive  conjointly — that  if,  at  one  time,  the  improvement  of 
society,  and  at  another,  that  of  individual  man,  progresses 
more  quickly  or  extends  further,  they  are  not  the  less  neces- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  19 

sary  the  one  to  the  other ;  they  excite  each  other,  and  soonci 
or  later  will  amalgamate.  When  one  progresses  for  any 
length  of  time  without  the  other,  and  when  their  union  is  long 
interrupted,  a  feeling  of  regret,  and  of  a  painful  hiatus  and 
incompleteness,  seizes  the  spectators.  If  an  important  social 
improvement,  a  great  progress  in  material  well  being,  is  mani- 
fested among  a  people  without  being  accompanied  by  intellec- 
tual improvement,  or  an  analogous  progression  in  mind  ;  the 
social  improvement  seems  precarious,  inexplicable,  and  almos* 
unjust.  One  asks  what  general  ideas  have  produced  and  jus. 
tified  it,  or  to  what  principles  it  attaches  itself.  One  wishes 
to  assure  oneself  that  it  will  not  be  limited  to  particular  gene- 
rations, to  a  single  country  ;  but  that  it  will  spread  and  com- 
municate itself,  and  that  it  will  fill  every  nation.  And  how 
can  social  improvement  spread  and  communicate  itself  but 
by  ideas,  upon  the  wings  of  doctrines  ?  Ideas  alone  mock  at 
distance,  pass  over  oceans,  and  everywhere  make  themselves 
received  and  comprehended.  Besides,  such  is  the  noble  na- 
ture of  humanity,  that  it  cannot  see  a  great  improvement  in 
material  strength,  without  aspiring  to  the  moral  strength 
which  should  be  joined  with  it  and  direct  it ;  something  sub- 
prdinate  remains  imprinted  on  social  improvement,  as  long  as 
it  bears  no  fruit  but  mere  physical  prosperity,  as  long  as  it 
does  not  raise  the  mind  of  man  to  the  level  of  his  condition. 

So,  on  the  other  hand,  if  any  great  intellectual  improvement 
appears,  unaccompanied  by  a  social  progress,  one  feels  uneasy 
and  surprised.  It  seems  as  if  we  saw  a  beautiful  tree  devoid 
of  fruit,  or  a  sun  bringing  with  it  neither  heat  nor  fertility. 
Or/3  feels  a  kind  of  disdain  for  ideas  thus  barren,  and  not 
seizing  upon  the  external  world.  And  not  only  do  we  feel  a 
disdain  for  thern,  but  in  the  end  we  doubt  their  reasonable 
legitimacy  and  truth ;  one  is  tempted  to  believe  them  chime- 
rical, when  they  show  themselves  powerless  and  incapable  of 
governing  human  condition.  So  powerfully  is  man  impressed 
with  the  feeling  that  his  business  upon  earth  is  to  transform 
the  ideal  into  the  actual,  to  reform  and  regulate  the  world 
which  ne  inhabits  according  to  the  truth  he  conceives;  so 
closely  are  the  two  great  elements  of  civilization,  social  and 
intellectual  development,  bound  to  one  another  ;  so  true  is  it 
that  its  perfection  consists,  not  only  in  their  union,  but  in  their 
simultaneousness,  and  in  the  extent,  facility,  and  rapidity  with 
which  they  mutually  evoke  and  produce  themselves. 

Let  us  now  endeavor  to  regard  from  this  point  of  view  tint 
2 


14  HISTORY    OF 

several  nations  of  Europe :  let  us  investigate  the  particulal 
characteristics  of  the  civilization  in  each  particular  case,  and 
inquire  how  far  these  characteristics  coincide  with  that  essen- 
tial, fundamental,  and  sublime  fact,  which  now  constitutes  for 
us  the  perfection  of  civilization.  We  shall  thus  discover 
which  of  the  various  kinds  of  European  civilization  is  the  most 
complete,  and  the  most  conformable  to  the  general  type  of 
civilization,  and,  consequently,  which  possesses  the  best  right 
to  our  attention,  and  best  represents  the  history  of  Europe. 

I  begin  with  England.  English  civilization  has  been  espe 
cially  directed  towards  social  perfection  ;  towards  the  ameliora- 
tion of  the  external  and  public  condition  of  men ;  towards  the 
amelioration,  not  only  of  their  material  but  also  of  their  moral 
condition ;  towards  the  introduction  of  more  justice,  more 
prosperity  into  society  ;  towards  the  development  of  right  as 
well  as  of  happiness. 

Nevertheless,  all  things  considered,  in  England  the  develop- 
ment of  society  has  been  more  extensive  and  more  glorious 
than  that  of  humanity  ;  social  interest  and  social  facts  have, 
in  England,  maintained  a  more  conspicuous  place,  and  have 
exercised  more  power  than  general  ideas :  the  nation  seems 
greater  than  the  individual.  This  is  so  true,  that  even  the 
philosophers  of  England,  men  who  seem  devoted  by  their  pro- 
fession to  the  development  of  pure  intelligence — as  Bacon, 
Locke,  and  the  Scotch  philosophers — belong  to  what  one  may 
call  the  practical  school  of  philosophy ;  they  concern  them- 
selves, above  all  things,  with  direct  and  positive  results ;  they 
trust  themselves  neither  to  the  nights  of  the  imagination,  nor 
to  the  deductions  of  logic :  theirs  is  the  genius  of  common 
sense.  I  turn  to  the  periods  of  England's  greatest  intellectual 
activity,  the  periods  when  ideas  and  mental  movements  occu- 
pied the  most  conspicuous  place  in  her  history  :  I  take  the  poli- 
tical and  religious  crisis  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies. No  man  is  ignorant  of  the  mighty  movement  which 
was  going  on  at  that  time  in  England.  Can  any  one,  how- 
ever, tell  me  of  any  great  philosophical  system,  of  any  great 
general  doctrines  since  become  law  in  Europe,  which  were 
born  of  this  movement  ?  It  has  had  immense  and  admirable 
results  ;  it  has  established  rights,  manners ;  it  has  not  only 
powerfully  influenced  social  relations,  it  has  influenced  the 
souls  of  men  ;  it  has  made  sects  and  enthusiasts,  but  it  has 
hardly  exalted  or  extended — at  all  events  directly — the  hori- 
zon of  the  human  mind ;  it  has  not  ignited  one  of  those  great 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FUANJE.  15 

intellectual  torches  which  illuminate  an  entire  epoch.  Per- 
haps in  no  country  have  religious  creeds  possessed,  nor  at  the 
present  day  do  they  possess  more  power  than  in  England ; 
but  they  are,  above  all  things,  practical ;  they  exert  a  great 
influence  over  the  conduct,  happiness,  and  sentiments  of  indi- 
viduals ;  but  they  have  few  general  and  mental  results,  results 
which  address  themselves  to  the  whole  of  the  human  race. 
Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  regard  this  civilization,  you 
will  discover  this  essentially  practical  and  social  character. 
I  might  investigate  this  development  in  a  more  extended  de- 
gree ;  I  might  review  every  class  of  English  society,  and  I 
should  everywhere  be  struck  with  the  same  fact.  In  litera- 
ture, for  instance,  practical  merit  still  predominates.  There 
is  no  one  who  will  say  that  the  English  are  skilful  at  com- 
posing a  book,  the  artistical  and  rational  arrangement  of  the 
whole,  in  the  distribution  of  the  parts,  in  executing  so  as  to 
strike  the  imagination  of  the  reader  with  that  perfection  of  art 
and  form,  which,  above  all  things,  gratifies  the  understanding. 
This  purely  intellectual  aim  in  works  of  genius  is  the  weak 
point  of  English  writers,  whilst  they  excel  in  the  power  of 
persuasion  by  the  lucidity  of  their  expositions,  by  frequently 
returning  to  the  same  ideas,  by  the  evidence  of  good  sense,  in 
short,  by  all  the  ways  of  leading  to  practical  effects. 

The  same  character  is  seen,  even  in  the  English  language. 
It  is  not  a  language  rationally,  uniformly,  and  systematically 
constructed  ;  it  borrows  words  on  all  sides,  from  the  most 
various  sources,  without  troubling  itself  about  maintaining  any 
symmetry  or  harmony.  Its  essential  want  is  that  logical 
beauty  which  is  seen  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages :  it 
has  an  appearance  of  coarseness  and  incoherence.  But  it  is 
rich,  flexible,  fitted  for  general  adaptation,  and  capable  of  sup- 
plying all  the  wants  of  man  in  the  external  course  of  life. 
Everywhere  the  principle  of  utility  and  application  dominates 
m  England,  and  constitutes  at  once  the  physiognomy  and  the 
force  of  its  civilization. 

From  England  I  shall  pass  to  Germany.  The  development 
of  civilization  has  here  been  slow  and  tardy  ;  the  brutality  of 
German  manners  has  been  proverbial  throughout  Europe  for 
centuries.  Still  when,  under  this  apparent  grossness,  one 
•eeko  the  comparative  progress  of  the  two  fundamental  ele- 
ments  of  civilization,  we  find  that,  in  Germany,  intellectual 
development  has  always  surpassed  and  left  behind  social  de. 
velopment,  that  the  human  spirit  has  there  prospered  much 
aiore  than  the  human  condition. 


16  HISTORY    OF 

Compare  the  intellectual  state  of  the  German  reformers  al 
the  sixteenth  century — Luther,  Melancthon,  Bucer,  and  many 
others — compare,  I  say,  the  development  of  mind  which  is 
shown  in  their  works  with  the  contemporaneous  manners  of 
the  country.  What  a  disparity  !  In  the  seventeenth  century, 
place  the  ideas  of  Leibnitz,  the  studies  of  his  disciples,  and 
the  German  universities,  by  the  side  of  the  manners  which 
prevailed,  not  only  among  the  people,  but  also  among  the  su- 
perior classes ;  read,  on  one  side,  the  writings  of  the  philoso- 
phers, and,  on  the  other,  the  memoirs  which  paint  the  court  of 
the  elector  of  Brandenburg  or  Bavaria.  What  a  contrast ! 
When  we  arrive  at  our  own  times,  this  contrast  is  yet  more 
striking.  It  is  a  common  saying  in  the  present  day,  that  be- 
yond the  Rhine,  ideas  and  facts,  the  intellectual  and  the  real 
orders,  are  almost  entirely  separated.  No  one  is  ignorant  of 
what  has  been  the  activity  of  spirit  in  Germany  for  the  last 
fifty  years ;  in  all  classes,  in  philosophy,  history,  general  lite- 
rature, or  poetry,  it  has  advanced  very  far.  It  may  be  said 
that  it  has  not  always  followed  the  best  path ;  one  may  contest 
part  of  the  results  at  which  it  has  arrived ;  yet  concerning  its 
energy  and  extensive  development  it  is  impossible  to  dispute. 
But  assuredly  the  social  state  and  public  condition  have  not 
advanced  at  the  same  pace.  Without  doubt,  there  also  pro- 
gress and  amelioration  have  been  made  ;  but  it  is  impossible 
to  draw  a  comparison  between  the  two  facts.  Thus,  the  pe- 
culiar character  of  all  works  in  Germany,  in  poetry,  philoso- 
phy, or  history,  is  a  non- acquaintance  with  the  external  world, 
the  absence  of  the  feeling  of  reality.  One  perceives,  in  read- 
ing them,  that  life  and  facts  have  exercised  but  little  influence 
upon  the  authors,  that  they  have  not  pre-occupied  their  ima- 
gination ;  they  have  lived  retired  within  themselves,  by  turns 
enthusiasts  or  logicians.  (Just  as  the  practical  genius  every- 
where shows  itself  in  England,  so  the  pure  intellectual  ac- 
tivity is  the  dominant  feature  of  German  civilization.  ( 

In  Italy  we  shall  find  neither  one  nor  the  other  of  thesu 
characters.  Italian  civilization  has  been  neither  essentially 
practical  as  that  of  England,  nor  almost  exclusively  speculative 
as  that  of  Germany  ;  in  Italy,  neither  great  development  of 
individual  intelligence,  nor  social  skill  and  ability  have  been 
wanting  ;  the  Italians  have  flourished  and  excelled  at  one  and 
the  same  time  in  the  pure  sciences,  the  arts  and  philosophy, 
as  well  as  in  practical  affairs  and  life.  For  some  time,  it  is 
rue,  Italy  seems  to  have  stopped  in  both  of  these  progres- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  17 

sions ;  society  and  the  human  mind  seem  enervated  and 
paralysed  ;  but  one  feels,  upon  looking  closely,  that  this  is  no. 
the  effect  of  an  inward  and  national  incapacity  ;  it  is  froir 
without  that  Italy  is  weighed  down  and  impeded  ;  she  re- 
sembles a  beautiful  flower  that  wishes  to  blossom,  but  is  com. 
pressed  in  every  part  by  a  cold  and  rude  hand.  Neither 
intellectual  nor  political  capacity  has  perished  in  Italy ;  it 
wants  that  which  it  has  always  wanted,  and  which  is  every, 
where  one  of  the  vital  conditions  of  civilization, — it  wants 
faith,  the  faith  in  truth.  I  wish  to  make  myself  correctly 
understood,  and  not  to  have  attributed  to  my  words  a  different 
sense  from  that  which  I  intend  to  convey.  I  mean  here, 
by  faith,  that  confidence  in  truth,  which  not  only  causes  it  to 
be  held  as  truth,  and  which  satisfies  the  mind,  but  which  gives 
men  a  confidence  in  right  to  reign  over  the  world,  to  gov- 
em  facts,  and  in  its  power  to  succeed.  It  is  by  this 
feeling  that,  once  having  possession  of  truth,  man  feels  called 
upon  to  introduce  it  into  external  facts,  to  reform  them, 
and  to  regulate  them  according  to  reason.  Well,  it  is  this 
which  is  almost  universally  wanted  in  Italy ;  she  has  been 
fertile  in  great  minds,  and  in  universal  ideas ;  she  has  been 
thronged  with  men  of  rare  practical  ability,  versed  in  the 
knowledge  of  all  conditions  of  external  life,  and  in  the  art  of 
conducting  and  managing  society  ;  but  these  two  classes  of 
men  and  facts  have  remained  strangers  to  each  other.  The 
men  of  universal  ideas,  the  speculative  spirits,  have  not  be- 
lieved in  the  duty,  perhaps  not  even  in  the  right,  of  influenc- 
ing society  ;  although  confident  in  the  truth  of  their  principles, 
they  have  doubted  their  power.  Men  of  action,  on  the  othei 
hand,  the  masters  of  society,  have  held  small  account  of 
universal  ideas ;  they  have  scarcely  ever  felt  a  desire  to 
regulate,  according  to  fixed  principles,  the  facts  which  came 
under  their  dominion.  Both  have  acted  as  if  it  was  desirable 
merely  to  know  the  truth,  but  as  if  it  had  ho  further  influence, 
and  demanded  nothing  more.  It  is  this,  alike  in  the  fifteenth 
century  and  in  later  times,  that  has  been  the  weak  side  of 
civilization  in  Italy  ;  it  is  this  which  has  struck  with  a  kind 
of  barrenness  both  its  speculative  genius  and  its  practical 
ability  ;  here  the  two  powers  have  not  lived  in  reciprocal  con- 
fidence,  in  correspondence,  in  continual  action  and  reaction. 

There  is  another  great  country  of  which,  indeed,  I  speak 
more  out  of  consideration  and  respect  for  a  noble  and  unhappy 
nation,  than  from  necessity  ;  I  mean  Spain.     Neither  grew 
2* 


18  HISTORY    OF 

minds  nor  great  events  have  been  wanting  in  Spain  ;  under 
standing  and  human  society  have  at  times  appeared  there  in 
all  their  glory  ;  but  these  are  isolated  facts,  cast  here  and  there 
throughout  Spanish  history,  like  palm-trees  on  a  desert.  The 
fundamental  character  of  civilization,  its  continued  and  uni- 
versal progress,  seems  denied  in  Spain,  as  much  to  the  human 
mind  as  to  society.  There  has  been  either  solemn  immobility, 
or  fruitless  revolutions.  Seek  one  great  idea,  or  social 
amelioration,  one  philosophical  system  or  fertile  institution, 
which  Spain  has  given  to  Europe  ;  there  are  none  such :  this 
nation  has  remained  isolated  in  Europe  ;  it  has  received  as 
little  from  it  as  it  has  contributed  to  it.  I  should  have  re- 
proached myself,  had  I  wholly  omitted  its  name ;  but  its 
civilization  is  of  small  importance  in  the  history  of  the  civili- 
zation of  Europe. 

You  see  that  the  fundamental  principle,  the  sublime  fact  of 
general  civilization,  the  intimate  and  rapid  union,  and  the 
harmonious  development  of  ideas  and  facts,  in  the  intel- 
lectual and  real  orders,  has  been  produced  in  neither  of  the 
great  countries  at  which  we  have  glanced.  Something  is 
essentially  wanting  in  all  of  them  to  complete  civilization ; 
neither  of  them  offers  us  the  complete  image,  the  pure  type  of 
civilization  in  all  its  conditions,  and  with  all  its  great  charac- 
teristics. 

In  France  it  is  different.  In  France,  the  intellectual  and 
social  development  have  never  failed  each  other.  Here 
society  and  man  have  always  progressed  and  improved,  i 
will  not  say  abreast  and  equally,  but  within  a  short  distance 
of  each  other.  By  the  side  of  great  events,  revolutions,  and 
public  ameliorations,  we  always  find  in  this  country  universal 
ideas  and  corresponding  doctrines.  Nothing  has  passed  in 
the  real  world,  but  the  understanding  has  immediately  seized 
it,  and  thence  derived  new  riches ;  nothing  within  the  do- 
minion of  understanding,  which  has  not  had  in  the  real  world, 
and  that  almost  always  immediately,  its  echo  and  result. 
Indeed,  as  a  general  thing,  in  France,  ideas  have  preceded 
and  impelled  the  progress  of  the  social  order  ;  they  have  been 
prepared  in  doctrines,  before  being  accomplished  in  things, 
and  in  the  march  of  civilization  mind  has  always  taken  the 
lead.  This  two-fold  character  of  intellectual  activity  and 
practical  ability,  of  meditation  and  application,  is  shown  in  all 
the  great  events  of  French  history,  and  in  all  the  great  classes 
of  French  society,  and  gives  them  an  aspect  which  we  do  not 
Snd  elsewhere. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  10 

At  ttie  commencement  of  the  twelfth  century,  for  example, 
burst  forth  the  great  movement  for  the  enfranchisement  of 
the  Commons,  a  great  step  in  social  condition  ;  at  the  same 
time  was  manifested  a  vivid  aspiration  after  freedom  of 
thought.  Abailard  was  contemporary  with  the  citizens  of 
Laon  and  Vezelay.  The  first  great  struggle  of  free-thought 
against  absolute  power  in  the  intellectual  order,  is  contempo- 
raneous  with  the  struggle  of  the  citizens  for  public  liberty. 
These  two  movements,  it  is  true,  were  apparently  foreign  to 
each  other ;  the  philosophers  had  a  very  ill  opinion  of  the 
insurgent  citizens,  whom  they  treated  as  barbarians ;  and 
the  citizens,  in  their  turn,  when  they  heard  them  spoken  of, 
regarded  the  philosophers  as  heretics.  But  the  double  pro- 
gress is  not  the  less  simultaneous. 

Quit  the  twelfth  century  ;  take  one  of  the  establishments 
which  have  played  the  most  conspicuous  part  in  the  history 
of  m'nd  in  France,  the  university  of  Paris.  No  one  is 
ignorant  of  what  have  been  its  scientific  labors,  dating  from 
the  thirteenth  century  ;  it  was  the  first  establishment  of  the 
kind  in  Europe.  There  was  no  other  in  the  same  age  which 
had  so  important  and  active  a  political  existence.  The  Uni- 
versity of  Paris  is  associated  with  the  policy  of  kings,  and 
with  all  the  struggles  of  the  French  clergy  against  the  court 
of  Rome,  and  those  of  the  clergy  against  the  temporal  power; 
ideas  developed  themselves,  and  doctrines  were  established  in 
its  bosom  ;  and  it  strove  almost  immediately  to  propagate 
them  in  the  external  world.  It  was  the  principles  of  the 
University  of  Paris  which  served  as  the  standard  of  the 
reformers  at  the  councils  of  Constance  and  Basle  ;  which 
were  the  origin  of,  and  sustained  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  of 
Charles  VII. 

Intellectual  activity  and  positive  influence  have  for  cen- 
turies been  inseparable  in  this  great  school.  Let  us  pass  to 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  glance  at  the  history  of  the 
Reformation  in  France  ;  it  has  here  a  distinguishing  charac- 
ter ;  it  was  more  learned,  or,  at  least,  as  learned  as  elsewhere, 
and  more  moderate  and  reasonable.  The  principal  struggle 
of  erudition  and  doctrine  against  the  Catholic  church  was 
sustained  by  the  French  Reformers ;  it  was  either  in  France 
or  Holland,  and  always  in  French,  that  so  many  philosophical, 
historical,  and  polemical  works  were  written  in  this  cause ; 
it  is  certain,  that  at  this  epoch,  neither  in  Germany  nor  in 
England,  was  there  so  much  spirit  and  learning  employed ; 


20  HISTORY    OF 

the  French  Reformation,  too,  was  a  stranger  to  the  flight* 
of  the  German  anabaptists  and  the  English  sectarians  ;  it  was 
seldom  it  was  wanting  in  practical  prudence,  and  yet  one 
cannot  doubt  the  energy  and  sincerity  of  its  creed,  since  for 
so  long  a  period  it  withstood  the  most  severe  reverses. 

In  modern  times,  in  the  seventeenth  and  eigtheenth  centu- 
ries, the  intimate  and  rapid  union  of  ideas  with  facts,  and 
the  development  both  of  society  and  of  man  as  an  individual, 
are  so  evident,  that  it  is  needless  to  insist  upon  them. 

We  see,  then,  four  or  five  great  epochs,  and  four  or  five 
grand  events,  in  which  the  particular  character  of  French 
civilization  is  shown.  Let  us  take  the  various  classes  of  our 
society ;  let  us  regard  their  manners  and  physiognomy,  and  we 
shall  be  struck  with  the  same  fact.  The  clergy  of  France  is 
both  learned  and  active,  it  is  connected  with  all  intellectual 
works  and  all  worldly  affairs  as  reasoner,  scholar,  adminis- 
trator ;  it  is,  as  it  were,  neither  exclusively  devoted  to 
religion,  science,  nor  politics,  but  is  constantly  occupied  in 
combining  and  conciliating  them  all.  The  French  philoso- 
phers also  present  a  rare  mixture  of  speculation  and  practical 
knowledge  ;  they  meditate  profoundly  and  boldly ;  they  seek 
the  pure  truth,  without  any  view  to  its  application  ;  but  they 
always  keep  up  a  sympathy  with  the  external  world,  and 
with  the  facts  in  the  midst  of  which  they  live  ;  they  elevate 
themselves  to  the  greatest  height,  but  without  ever  losing 
sight  of  the  earth.  Montaigne,  Descartes,  Pascal,  Bayle, 
almost  all  the  great  French  philosophers,  are  neither  pure 
logicians  nor  enthusiasts.  Last  summer,  in  this  place,  you 
heard  their  eloquent  interpreter1  characterize  the  genius  of 
Descartes,  who  was  at  the  same  time  a  man  of  science  and  a 
man  of  the  world.  "  Clear,  firm,  resolved,  and  daring,  he 
thought  in  his  study  with  the  same  intrepidity  with  which  he 
fought  under  the  walls  of  Prague ;"  having  an  inclination 
alike  for  the  movement  of  life  and  for  the  activity  «>f  thought. 
Our  philosophers  have  not  all  of  them  possessed  the  same 
genius,  nor  experienced  the  same  adventurous  destiny  as 
Descartes  ;  but  almost  all  of  them,  at  the  same  time  *hat  they 
sought  truth,  have  comprehended  the  world.  Tb^y  were 
alike  capable  of  observing  and  of  meditating. 

Finally,  in  the  history  of  France,  what  is  the  pa  'dcular 

1M.  Villemain. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  2i 

irait  which  characterizes  the  only  class  of  men  who  have 
there  taken  a  truly  public  part,  the  only  men  who  have  at. 
tempted  to  thoroughly  bring  the  country  within  its  adminis- 
tration, and  to  give  a  legal  government  to  the  nation,  the 
French  magistracy  and  the  bar,  the  parliaments  and  all  that 
surrounds  them  ?  Is  it  not  essentially  this  mixture  of  learn- 
ing and  practical  wisdom,  this  respect  for  ideas  and  facts,  for 
science  and  its  application  1  Wherever  pure  knowledge  ia 
exercised,  in  erudition,  philosophy,  literature,  or  history, 
everywhere  you  encounter  the  parliaments  and  the  French 
bar ;  they  take  part,  at  the  same  time,  in  all  affairs,  both 
public  and  private ;  and  they  have  had  a  hand  in  all  the  real 
and  positive  interests  of  society. 

From  whatever  point  of  view  we  regard  France,  we  shall 
discover  this  two-fold  character.  The  two  essential  principles 
of  civilization  are  there  developed  in  a  strict  correspondence. 
There  man  has  never  been  wanting  in  individual  greatness ; 
nor  has  his  individual  greatness  been  devoid  of  public  im- 
portance and  utility.  Much  has  been  said,  especially  latterly, 
of  good  sense  as  a  distinguishing  trait  of  French  genius. 
This  is  true;  but  it  is  not  a  purely  practical  good  sense, 
merely  calculated  to  succeed  in  its  enterprises ;  it  is  an  ele- 
vated and  philosophical  good  sense,  which  penetrates  to  the 
roots  of  ideas,  and  comprehends  and  judges  them  in  all  their 
bearings,  while  at  the  same  time  it  attends  to  external  facts. 
This  good  sense  is  reason  ;  the  French  mind  is  at  the  same 
time  reasoning  and  reasonable. 

To  France,  then,  must  be  ascribed  this  honor,  that  her 
civilization  has  reproduced  more  faithfully  than  any  other  the 
general  type  and  fundamental  idea  of  civilization.  It  is  the 
most  complete,  the  most  veritable,  and,  so  to  speak,  the  most 
civilized  of  civilizations,  This  it  is  has  given  her  the  first 
rank  in  the  disinterested  opinion  of  Europe.  France  has 
proved  herself  at  once  intelligent  and  powerful,  rich  in  ideas, 
and  in  the  means  of  giving  effect  to  those  ideas.  She  has 
addressed  herself  at  once  to  the  intellect  of  the  nations,  and 
to  their  desire  for  social  amelioration ;  she  has  aroused  at  once 
imagination  and  ambition ;  she  has  manifested  a  capability 
of  discovering  the  truth,  and  of  making  it  prevail.  By  this 
double  title,  she  has  rendered  herself  popular,  for  this  is  the 
double  want  of  humanity. 

We  are,  then,  fully  entitled  to  regard  civilization  in  Franc* 
00  having  the  first  claim  on  our  attention,  as  being  the  mo* 

16 


22  HISTORY    O 

important  in  itself,  the  most  fruitful  of  consequences.  In 
studying  it,  we  must  earnestly  regard  it  under  the  double 
aspect  I  have  indicated,  of  social  development  and  of  intel- 
lectual development ;  we  must  closely  watch  the  progress  of 
ideas,  of  mind,  of  the  interior  individual  man,  and  of  his  ex- 
terior  and  general  condition.  Considering  it  upon  this  prin- 
ciple,  there  is  not  in  the  general  history  of  Europe  any  great 
event,  any  great  question  which  we  shall  not  meet  with  in 
our  own.  We  shall  thus  attain  the  historical  and  scientific 
object  which  we  proposed  to  ourselves ;  we  shall  be  constantly 
present  at  the  spectacle  of  European  civilization,  without  be- 
ing ourselves  lost  in  the  number  and  variety  of  the  scenes 
and  actors. 

But  we  have  before  us,  as  I  conceive,  something  more,  and 
something  more  important  than  a  spectacle,  or  even  than 
study ;  unless  I  am  altogether  mistaken,  we  seek  something 
beyond  mere  information.  The  course  of  civilization,  and  in 
particular  that  of  the  civilization  of  France,  has  raised  a  great 
problem,  a  problem  peculiar  to  our  own  time,  in  which  all 
futurity  is  interested,  not  only  our  own  future  but  that  of  hu- 
manity at  large,  and  which  we,  we  of  the  present  generation, 
are,  perhaps,  especially  called  upon  to  solve. 

What  is  the  spirit  which  now  prevails  in  the  intellectual 
world,  which  presides  over  the  search  after  truth,  in  whatever 
directio  i  truth  is  sought  ?  A  spirit  of  rigorous  reserve,  of 
strict,  cautious  prudence,  a  scientific  spirit,  a  philosophical 
spirit  pursuing  a  philosophical  method.  It  is  a  spirit  which 
carefully  observes  facts,  and  only  admits  generalization  slowly, 
progressively,  concurrently  with  the  ascertainment  of  facts. 
This  spirit  has,  for  more  than  a  half  century  past,  manifestly 
prevailed  in  the  conduct  of  the  sciences  which  occupy  them- 
selves in  the  material  world  ;  it  has  been  the  cause  of  their 
progress,  the  source  of  their  glory ;  and  now,  every  day  it 
infuses  itself  more  and  more  deeply  into  the  sciences  of  the 
moral  world,  into  politics,  history,  philosophy.  In  every  di- 
rection the  scientific  method  is  extending  and  establishing 
itself;  in  every  direction  the  necessity  is  more  and  more  felt 
of  taking  facts  as  the  basis  and  rule  of  our  proceedings ;  and 
we  all  fully  understand  that  facts  constitute  the  subject  matter 
of  science,  and  that  no  general  idea  can  be  of  any  real  value, 
unless  it  be  founded  upon,  and  supported  throughout  its  pro- 
gress by  facts.  Facts  are  now  in  the  intellectual  order,  thf 
power  in  authority. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  23 

I 

In  the  real  order,  in  the  social  world,  in  the  government, 
in  the  public  administration,  in  political  economy,  we  perceive 
a  different  tendency ;  there  prevails  the  empire  of  ideas,  of 
reasoning,  of  general  principles,  of  what  is  called  theory. 
Such  is  evidently  the  feature  of  the  great  revolution  which 
has  developed  itself  in  our  time,  of  all  the  labors  of  the 
eighteenth  century ;  and  the  feature  is  not  merely  one  cha- 
racterizing a  crisis,  a  period  of  transient  agitation ;  it  is  the 
permanent,  regular,  calm  characteristic  of  the  social  state 
which  is  now  establishing,  or,  at  all  events,  announcing  itself 
in  every  direction — a  social  state,  which  has  its  basis  on  dis- 
cussion and  publicity,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  empire  of  public 
reason,  on  the  empire  of  doctrines,  of  convictions  common  to 
all  the  members  of"  the  society.  On  the  one  hand,  then,  never 
before  have  facts  held  so  large  a  place  in  science ;  on  the 
other,  never  before  have  ideas  played  so  leading  a  part  in  the 
outer  world. 

Matters  were  very  different  a  hundred  years  ago :  then,  in 
the  intellectual  order,  in  science  properly  so  called,  facts 
were  but  slightly  consulted,  but  little  respected ;  reason  and 
imagination  gave  themselves  full  career,  and  men  yielded 
without  hesitation  to  the  wildest  impulses  of  hypothesis,  dash- 
ing on  recklessly,  with  no  other  guide  than  the  thread  of  de- 
duction. In  the  political  order,  on  the  contrary,  in  the  real 
world,  facts  were  all  powerful,  were  admitted  without  a  doubt 
or  a  murmur,  as  the  authority  alike  de  jure  and  de  facto. 
Men  complained,  indeed,  of  particular  facts,  but  scarcely  ever 
ventured  to  contest  them ;  sedition  itself  was  more  common 
in  those  times  than  freedom  of  thought.  He  who  should  have 
claimed  for  an  idea,  though  in  the  name  of  truth  itself,  any 
place  in  the  affairs  of  this  world,  would  have  had  reason  to 
repent  of  his  temerity. 

The  course  of  civilization,  then,  has  reversed  the  formei 
order  of  things:  it  has  established  the  empire  of  facts  where 
once  the  free  movement  of  mind  dominated,  and  raised  ideas 
to  the  throne  once  filled  exclusively  by  facts. 

This  proposition  is  so  true,  that  the  result  stated  forms  a 
marked  feature  in  the  reproaches  of  which  modern  civilization 
is  made  the  object.  Whenever  the  adversaries  of  that  civili- 
zation speak  of  the  actual  condition  of  the  human  mind,  of 
the  direction  of  its  labors,  they  charge  it  with  being  hard, 
dry,  narrow.  This  rigorous  positive  method,  this  scientific 
spirit,  cramps,  say  they,  the  ideas,  freezes  up  the  imagination, 


24  HISTORY    OF 

takes  from  the  understanding  its  breadth,  its  freedom,  confines, 
materializes  it.  When  the  question  turns  upon  the  actual 
state  of  societies,  upon  what  societies  are  attempting,  are 
effecting,  these  same  men  exclaim :  "  Out  upon  chimeras  ! 
Place  no  faith  in  theories :  it  is  facts  alone  which  should  be 
studied,  respected,  valued ;  it  is  experience  alone  which  should 
be  believed."  So  that  modern  civilization  is  accused  at  once 
of  dryness  and  of  dreamy  reverie,  of  hesitation  and  of  pre- 
cipitation, of  timidity  and  of  temerity.  As  philosophers,  we 
creep  along  the  earth  ;  as  politicians,  we  essay  the  enterprise 
of  Icarus,  and  we  shall  undergo  the  same  fate. 

It  is  this  double  reproach,  or  rather  this  double  danger, 
which  we  have  to  repel.  We  are  called  upon,  in  fact,  to  solve 
the  problem  which  has  occasioned  it.  We  are  called  upon 
to  confirm,  more  and  more,  in  the  intellectual  order,  the  em- 
pire of  facts — in  the  social  order,  the  empire  of  ideas ;  to 
govern  our  reason  more  and  more  according  to  reality,  and 
reality  according  to  our  reason  ;  to  maintain  at  once  the  strict- 
ness of  the  scientific  method,  and  the  legitimate  empire  of  the 
intellect.  There  is  nothing  incongruous  or  inconsistent  in 
this,  far  from  it ;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  natural,  necessary 
result  of  the  position  of  man,  as  a  spectator  of  the  world,  and 
of  his  mission  as  an  actor  in  its  mighty  drama.  I  take  no- 
thing for  granted  here,  I  make  no  comment ;  I  merely  describe 
what  I  see  before  me.  We  are  thrown  into  the  midst  of  a 
world  which  we  neither  invented  nor  created ;  we  find  it 
before  us,  we  look  at  it,  we  study  it :  we  must  needs  take  it 
as  a  fact,  for  it  subsists  out  of  us,  independently  of  us ;  it  is 
with  facts  our  mind  exercises  itself;  it  has  only  facts  for 
materials  ;  and  when  it  comes  to  the  general  laws  resulting 
from  them,  the  general  laws  themselves  are  facts  like  any 
others.  So  much  for  our  position  as  spectators.  As  actors, 
we  proceed  in  a  different  way  :  when  we  have  observed  ex- 
ternal facts,  our  acquaintance  with  these  developes  in  us  ideas 

hich  are  of  a  nature  superior  to  them  ;  we  feel  ourselves 
called  upon  to  reform,  to  perfectionate,  to  regulate  that  which 
is ;  we  feel  ourselves  capable  of  acting  upon  the  world,  of 
extending  therein  the  glorious  empire  of  reason.  This  is  the 
mission  of  man  :  as  spectator,  he  is  subject  to  facts  ;  as  actor, 
he  takes  possession  of  them,  and  impresses  upon  them  a  more 
regular,  a  more  perfect  form.  I  was  justified,  then,  in  say 
ing  that  there  is  nothing  incongruous,  nothing  self-contradic- 
tory in  the  problem  which  we  have  to  solve.     It  is  quite  true, 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  2fi 

however,  that  there  is  a  double  danger  involved  in  this  double 
task :  it  is  quite  true,  that  in  studying  facts,  the  understand, 
ing  may  be  overwhelmed  by  them ;  that  it  may  become  de- 
pressed, confined,  materialized ;  it  may  conceive  that  there 
are  no  other  facts  than  those  which  strike  us  at  first  glance, 
which  present  themselves  directly,  obviously  before  us,  which 
make  themselves  palpable  to  the  senses ;  a  great  and  griev- 
ous error :  there  are  facts,  facts  so  remote  as  to  be  obscure, 
facts  vast,  sublime,  most  difficult  to  compass,  to  observe,  to 
describe,  but  which  are  none  the  less  facts,  and  facts  which 
man  is,  none  the  less,  absolutely  called  upon  to  study  and  to 
know.  If  he  fail  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  them,  if 
he  forget  them,  the  character  of  his  thought  will  be  inevitably 
and  prodigiously  lowered,  and  all  the  learning  which  he  may 
possess  will  bear  the  impress  of  that  abasement.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  quite  possible  for  intellectual  ambition,  in  its 
action  upon  the  real  world,  to  be  carried  away,  to  become  ex- 
cessive, chimerical ;  to  lose  itself  in  its  eagerness  to  extend 
too  far  and  too  rapidly  the  empire  of  its  ideas  over  external 
things.  But  this  double  danger  itself  proves  the  double  mis- 
sion whence  it  originates  ;  and  this  mission  must  be  accom- 
plished, the  problem  must  be  solved,  for  the  actual  ^condition 
of  civilization  lays  it  down  with  perfect  clearness,  and  will 
not  permit  it  to  be  lost  sight  of.  Henceforth,  whosoever,  in 
the  search  after  truth,  shall  depart  from  the  scientific  method, 
will  not  be  in  a  position  to  take  the  study  of  facts  as  the  basis 
of  intellectual  development ;  and  whosoever,  in  administering 
the  affairs  of  society,  shall  refuse  the  guidance  of  general 
principles  and  ideas,  of  doctrines,  will  assuredly  achieve  no 
permanent  success,  will  find  himself  without  any  real  power ; 
for  power  and  success,  whether  rational  or  social,  now 
wholly  depend  upon  the  conformity  of  our  labors  with  these 
two  laws  of  human  activity,  with  these  two  tendencies  of 
civilization. 

This  is  not  all ;  we  have  still  a  far  different  problem  to 
6olve.  Of  the  two  which  I  have  laid  down,  the  one  is  sci- 
entific and  the  other  social ;  the  one  concerns  pure  intelli- 
gence, the  study  of  truth ;  the  other  applies  the  results  of 
this  study  to  the  external  world.  There  is  a  third,  which 
arises  equally  from  the  present  state  of  civilization,  and  the 
solution  of  which  is  equally  prescribed  to  us ;  a  moral  prob- 
lem which  refers  not  to  science,  not  to  society,  but  to  the  in. 


26  HISTORY   OF 

ternal  development  of  each  of  us  to  the  me/it,  the  worth  of  tae 
individual  man. 

In  addition  to  the  other  reproaches  of  which,  as  1  have  said, 
our  civilization  is  made  the  object,  it  is  accused  of  exercising 
a  baleful  effect  upon  our  moral  nature.  Its  opponents  say. 
that  by  its  everlastingly  disputative  spirit,  by  its  mania  for 
discussing  and  weighing  everything,  for  reducing  everything 
to  a  precise  and  definite  value,  it  infrigidates,  dries  up,  con- 
centres the  human  soul ;  that  the  result  of  its  setting  up  a 
pretension  to  universal  infallibility,  of  its  assumption  of  a 
superiority  to  all  illusion,  all  impulse  of  the  thought,  of  its 
affecting  to  know  the  real  value  of  all  things,  will  be,  that  man 
will  become  severally  disgusted  with  all  the  rest  of  the  world, 
will  become  absorbed  in  self.  Further,  it  is  said,  that  owing 
to  the  tranquil  ease  of  life  in  our  times,  to  the  facility  and 
amenity  of  social  relations,  to  the  security  which  prevails 
throughout  society,  men's  minds  become  effeminate,  enervated ; 
and  that  thus,  at  the  same  time  that  we  acquire  the  habit  of 
looking  only  to  oneself,  one  acquires  also  a  habit  of  requiring 
all  things  for  oneself,  a  disposition  to  dispense  with  nothing, 
to  sacrifice  nothing,  to  suffer  nothing.  In  a  word,  it  is  as- 
serted  that  selfishness  on  the  one  hand,  and  captious  effemi- 
nacy on  the  other,  the  dry  hardness  of  manners,  and  their 
puerile  enervation,  are  the  natural  matter-of-course  results  of 
the  actual  condition  of  civilization  ;  that  high-souled  devotion 
and  energy,  at  once  the  two  great  powers  and  the  two  great 
virtues  of  man,  are  wanting,  and  will  be  more  and  more 
wanting,  in  the  periods  which  we  call  civilized,  and  more  es- 
pecially in  our  own. 

It  were  easy,  I  think,  to  repel  this  double  reproach,  and  to 
establish:  1,  the  general  proposition,  that  the  actual  condi- 
tion of  civilization,  considered  thoroughly  and  as  a  whole, 
by  no  means  as  a  matter  of  moral  probability,  induces  as  its 
results  selfishness  and  effeminacy ;  2,  the  fact  that  neither 
devotion  nor  energy  have  been  found  to  be  wanting,  in  time 
of  need,  to  the  civilized  members  of  modern  times.  But  this 
were  a  question  which  would  carry  us  too  far.  It  is  true, 
the  actual  state  of  civilization  imposes  upon  moral  devotion 
and  energy,  as  upon  patriotism,  as  upon  all  the  noble  thought? 
and  feelings  of  man,  an  additional  difficulty.  These  grea. 
faculties  of  our  nature  have  hitherto  often  manifested  them 
selves  somewhat  fortuitously,  in  a  manner  characterized  by 
no  reflection,  by  no  reference  to  motives;  so  to  speak,  at 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  27 

random.  Henceforth  they  will  be  bound  to  proceed  only 
upon  the  basis  of  reason ;  legitimacy  of  motives,  and  utility 
of  results  will  be  required  of  them.  Doubtless,  this  is  an 
additional  weight  for  nature  to  raise  up  ere  she  can  manifest 
herself  in  all  her  grandeur  ;  but  she  will  raise  it  up.  Nevei 
yet  has  human  nature  been  wanting  to  herself,  never  has  she 
failed  of  that  which  circumstances  have  required  at  her 
hands ;  the  more  has  been  asked  of  her,  the  more  she  has 
given.  Her  revenue  ever  more  than  keeps  pace  With  her 
expenditure.  Energy  and  devotion  will  derive  from  other 
sources,  will  manifest  themselves  under  other  forms.  Doubt- 
less, we  possess  not  fully  as  yet  those  general  ideas,  those 
innate  convictions  which  must  inspire  the  qualities  I  speak 
of;  the  faith  which  corresponds  with  our  manners  is  as  yet 
weak,  shadowy,  tottering ;  the  principles  of  devotion  and  en- 
ergy which  were  in  action  in  past  times  are  now  without 
efFect,  for  they  have  lost  our  confidence.  It  must  be  our  task 
to  seek  out  until  we  discover  principles  of  a  character  to  take 
strong  hold  of  us,  to  convince  our  minds  and  to  move  our 
hearts  at  one  and  the  same  time.  These  will  inspire  devotion 
and  energy ;  these  will  keep  our  minds  in  that  state  of  disin- 
terested activity,  of  simple,  unsophisticated  steadfastness  which 
constitutes  moral  health.  The  same  progress  of  events  which 
imposes  the  necessity  of  doing  this  upon  us,. will  supply  us 
with  the  means  of  doing  it. 

In  the  study,  then,  upon  which  we  are  about  to  enter,  we 
have  to  aim  at  far  more  than  the  mere  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge ;  intellectual  development  cannot,  may  not  remain  an 
isolated  fact.  We  are  imperatively  called  upon  to  derive 
from  it,  for  our  country,  new  materials  of  civilization ;  for 
ourselves,  a  moral  regeneration.  Science  is  a  beautiful 
thing,  undoubtedly,  and  of  itself  well  worth  all  the  labor 
that  man  may  bestow  upon  it ;  but  it  becomes  a  thousand 
times  grander  and  more  beautiful  when  it  becomes  a  power  ; 
when  it  becomes  the  parent  of  virtue.  This,  then,  is  what 
we  have  to  do  in  the  course  of  these  lectures :  to  discover 
the  truth  ;  to  realize  it  out  of  ourselves  in  external  facts, 
for  the  benefit  of  society ;  in  ourselves,  to  convert  it  into 
a  faith  capable  of  inspiring  us  with  disinterestedness  and 
moral  energy,  the  force  and  dignity  of  man  in  this  world. 
This  is  our  triple  task  ;  this  the  aim  and  object  of  our  labor ; 
a  labor  difficult  of   execution  and  slow  of   Drogress,  and 


28  HISTORY   OF 

which  success,  instead  of  terminating,  only  extends.  Bu, 
in  nothing,  perhaps,  is  it  given  to  man  ever  to  arrive  at  the 
goal  he  has  proposed  to  himself;  his  glory  is  in  advancing 
towards  it. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  29 


SECOND  LECTURE. 

Necessity  of  reading  a  general  history  of  France  before  we  stuJy  that 
of  civilization — M.  de  Sismondi's  work — Why  we  should  study  th# 
political  state  of  a  country  before  its  moral  state,  the  history  of 
society  before  that  of  man — The  social  state  of  Gaul  in  the  5th  cen- 
tury — Original  monuments  and  modern  works  descriptive  of  that 
subject — Difference  between  the  civil  and  religious  society  of  that 
period — Imperial  government  of  Gaul — The  provincial  governors — 
Their  official  establishments — Their  salaries — Benefits  and  defects 
of  the  administration — Fall  of  the  Roman  empire — Gaulish  society : 
1.  The  senators  ;  2.  The  curiales  ;  3.  The  people  ;  4.  The  slavts — 
Public  relations  of  these  various  classes — Decline  and  helplessness 
of  Gaulish  civil  society — Causes  of  this — The  people  attach  them- 
selves to  the  religious  community. 

Before  entering  upon  the  history  of  French  civilization,  1 
would  engage  those  among  you  who  propose  to  make  a  serious 
study  of  the  subject,  to  read  with  attention  one  of  the  larger 
histories  of  France,  which  may  serve,  as  it  were,  for  a  frame 
in  which  to  place  the  facts  and  ideas  we  shall  together  collect. 
For  I  do  not  propose  to  relate  to  you  the  course  of  what  are 
more  especially  called  events,  which  yet  it  is  indispensable 
for  you  to  know.  Of  all  the  histories  of  France  I  could  point 
out  to  you,  the  best,  beyond  any  question,  is  that  of  M.  de 
Sismondi.  It  is  no  part  of  my  intention  to  enter  here  into  a 
discussion  of  the  merits  and  defects  of  that  work,  but  I  will, 
in  a  few  words,  indicate  to  you  what  you  will  more  peculiarly 
find  there,  and  what  I  advise  you  more  peculiarly  to  seek 
there.  Considered  as  a  critical  exposition  of  the  institutions, 
the  political  development,  the  government  of  France,  the  His- 
loire  des  Frangais  of  M.  de  Sismondi  is  incomplete,1  leaving 
in  my  opinion  something  to  be  desired.  Speaking  of  the 
volumes  already  published,  I  should  say  that  its  account  of 
the  two  epochs  most  important  for  the  political  destiny  of 
France,  the  reign  of  Charlemagne  and  that  of  St.  Louis,  is, 
perhaps,  among   the  feeblest  portions  of  the  work.     As  a 


1  M.Guizot  speaks  of  the  first  twelve  volumes  of  the  Paris  edition. 


30  HISTORY    OF 

history  of  intellectual  development  of  ideas,  it  is  aeficient,  tfi 
a  certain  extent,  in  depth  of  research,  and  in  exactness  as  to 
results.  But,  as  a  narrative  of  events,  as  a  picture  of  the 
revolutions  and  vicissitudes  of  the  social  state,  of  the  mutual 
relations  of  the  various  classes  of  society  at  different  periods, 
of  the  progressive  formation  of  the  French  nation,  it  is  a  work 
of  the  highest  order,  a  work  whence  instruction  of  the  most 
valuable  kind  is  to  be  derived.  You  may,  perhaps,  find  occa- 
sion to  desire  in  it  somewhat  more  impartiality,  somewhat 
greater  freedom  of  imagination  ;  you  may,  perhaps,  detect  in 
it,  at  times,  too  much  of  the  influence  upon  the  writer's  mind 
of  coijtemporary  events  and  opinions  ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is 
a  prodigious,  a  splendid  work,  infinitely  superior  t©  all  those 
which  preceded  it,  and  one  which,  read  with  attention,  will 
admirably  prepare  you  for  the  studies  we  are  about  to  pursue. 

It  is  part  of  my  plan,  whenever  we  approach  a  particular 
epoch,  or  a  crisis  of  French  society,  to  point  out  to  you  the 
original  literary  monuments  which  are  extant  with  respect  to 
it,  and  the  principal  modern  works  which  have  treated  of  the 
subject.  You  will  thus  be  enabled  to  test  for  yourselves,  in 
the  crucible  of  your  own  studies,  the  results  which  I  shall 
endeavor  to  lay  before  you. 

You  will  remember  that  I  proposed  to  consider  civilization 
in  its  aggregate,  as  a  social  development,  and  as  a  moral  de- 
velopment in  the  history  of  the  mutual  relations  of  man,  and 
in  that  of  ideas  ;  I  shall  accordingly  examine  each  epoch 
under  this  double  aspect.  I  shall  commence  in  every  case 
with  the  study  of  the  social  state.  I  am  quite  aware  that  in 
so  doing,  I  shall  not  begin  with  the  beginning :  the  social 
state  derives,  among  a  number  of  other  causes,  from  the 
moral  state  of  nations ;  creeds,  feelings,  ideas,  manners,  pre- 
cede the  external  condition,  the  social  relations,  the  political 
institutions  ;  society,  saving  a  necessary  and  powerful  reac- 
tion, is  that  which  men  make  it.  Conformably  with  true 
chronology,  with  the  internal  and  moral  chronology,  we  ought 
to  study  man  before  society.  But  the  true  historic  order,  the 
order  in  which  facts  succeed  one  another,  and  reciprocally 
create  each  ocher,  differs  essentially  from  the  scientific  order, 
from  the  order  in  which  it  is  proper  to  study  them.  In  reality, 
facts  develope  themselves,  so  to  speak,  from  within  to  without ; 
causes  inward  produce  effects  outward.  Study,  on  the  con- 
trary— study,  science,  proceed,  and  properly  proceed,  from 
without  to  within.     It  is  with  the  outward  that  its  attention  is 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  31 

first  occupied ;  it  is  the  outward  which  it  first  seizes  upon, 
and  following  which,  it  advances,  penetrates  on  and  on,  until 
by  degrees  it  arrives  within. 

And  here  we  come  to  the  great  question,  the  question  so 
often  and  so  well  treated,  but  not  as  yet,  perhaps,  exhausted, 
the  question  between  the  two  methods  of  analysis  and  synthe- 
sis ;  the  latter,  the  primitive  method,  the  method  of  creation ; 
the  other,  the  method  of  the  second  period,  the  scientific 
method.  If  science  desired  to  proceed  according  to  the  me- 
thod of  creation,  if  it  sought  to  take  facts  in  the  order  accord- 
ing to  which  they  reproduce  each  other,  it  would  run  a  great 
risk,  to  say  the  least,  of  missing  the  full,  pure  source  of  things, 
of  not  embracing  the  whole  broad  principle,  of  arriving  at  only 
one  of  the  causes  whence  effects  have  sprung  ;  and  thus  in- 
volved in  a  narrow,  tortuous,  fallacious  path,  it  would  wander 
more  and  more  remote  from  the  right  direction  ;  and  instead 
of  arriving  at  the  veritable  creation,  instead  of  finding  the 
facts  such  as  they  really  are,  such  as  they  really  produce  one 
the  other,  it  would  give  birth  to  mere  valueless  chimeras, 
grand,  indeed,  in  appearance,  but  in  reality,  notwithstanding 
the  amount  of  intellectual  wealth  expended  in  their  pursuit, 
utterly  frivolous  and  of  no  account. 

On  the  other  hand,  were  science,  in  proceeding  from  with- 
out to  within,  according  to  its  own  proper  method,  to  forget 
that  this  is  not  the  primitive  productive  method,  that  facts  in 
themselves  subsist  and  develope  themselves  in  another  order 
than  that  in  which  it  views  them,  it  might  in  time  also  forget 
that  it  was  preceded  by  facts,  it  might  exclude  from  its  re- 
membrance the  very  foundation  of  things,  it  might  be  dazzled 
with  itself,  it  might  fancy  that  it  was  reality ;  and  it  would 
thus  speedily  become  a  mere  combination  of  appearances  and 
terms,  as  vain,  as  fallacious  as  the  hypothesis  and  deductions 
of  the  contrary  method. 

It  is  highly  important  not  to  lose  sight  of  this  distinction  and 
its  consequences ;  we  shall  meet  with  them  again  more  that: 
once  on  our  way. 

In  a  former  lecture,  on  seeking  in  the  cradle  of  European 
uvilization  for  its  primitive  and  essential  elements,  I  found, 
on  the  one  side,  the  Roman  world,  on  the  other,  the  barbarians. 
In  commencing,  therefore,  in  any  quarter  of  Europe,  the 
study  of  modern  civilization,  we  must  first  investigate  the 
state  of  Roman  society  there,  at  the  moment  when  the  Roman 
empire  fell,  that  is  to  say,  about  the  close  of  the  fourth  and 


32  HISTORY    OF 

the  opening  of  the  fifth  century.  This  investigation  is  pecu- 
liarly necessary  in  the  case  of  France.  The  whole  of  Gaul 
was  subject  to  the  Empire,  and  its  civilization,  more  espe- 
cially  in  its  southern  portions,  was  thoroughly  Roman.  In 
the  histories  of  England  and  of  Germany,  Rome  occupies  a 
less  prominent  position  ;  the  civilization  of  these  countries,  in 
its  origin,  was  not  Roman,  but  Germanic  ;  it  was  not  until  8 
later  period  of  their  career  that  they  really  underwent  the 
influence  of  the  laws,  the  ideas,  the  traditions  of  Rome.  The 
case  with  our  civilization  was  different ;  it  was  Roman  from 
its  very  outset.  It  is  characterized,  moreover,  by  this  pecu- 
liar feature,  that  it  drew  nourishment  from  both  the  sources 
of  general  European  civilization.  Gaul  was  situated  upon  the 
limits  of  the  Roman  world  and  of  the  Germanic  world.  The 
south  of  Gaul  was  essentially  Roman,  the  north  essentially 
Germanic.  Germanic  manners,  institutions,  influences,  pre- 
vailed in  the  north  of  Gaul ;  Roman  manners,  institutions,  in- 
fluences, in  the  south.  And  here  we  already  recognize  that 
distinctive  character  of  French  civilization,  which  I  endea- 
vored to  demonstrate  in  my  first  lecture,  namely,  that  it  is  the 
most  complete,  the  most  faithful  image  of  European  civiliza- 
tion in  the  aggregate.  The  civilization  of  England  and  of 
Germany  is  especially  Germanic  ;  that  of  Spain  and  Italy 
especially  Roman ;  that  of  France  is  the  only  one  which  par- 
ticipates almost  equally  of  the  two  origins,  which  has  repro- 
duced, from  its  outset,  the  complexity,  the  variety  of  tho 
elements  of  modern  society. 

The  social  state  of  Gaul,  then,  towards  the  end  of  the  fourth 
and  the  commencement  of  the  fifth  century,  is  the  first  object 
of  our  studies.  Before  entering  upon  it,  I  will  mention  what 
are  the  great  original  monuments,  and  what  the  principal  mo- 
dern works  on  the  subject  which  I  would  advise  you  to 
consult. 

Of  the  original  monuments,  the  most  important,  beyond  all 
doubt,  is  the  Theodosian  code.  Montesquieu,  though  he  does 
not  exactly  say  so,  is  evidently1  of  opinion  that  this  code  con- 
stituted, in  the  fifth  century,  the  whole  Roman  law,  the  entire 
body  of  Roman  legislation.  It  constitutes  nothing  of  the  sort. 
The  Theodosian  code  is  a  collection  of  the  constitutions  of  the 
emperors,  from  Constantine  to  Theodosius  the  younger,  and 


1  Esprit  des  Loix,  xxviii.  chap.  4. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  3d 

was  published  by  the  latter  in  438.  Independently  of  these 
constitutions,  the  ancient  Senatus  Consulta,  the  ancient  Pie- 
biscita,  the  law  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  the  Pretorian  Edicts, 
and  the  opinions  of  the  jurisconsults,  constituted  a  part  of  the 
lto:nan  law.  Just  previously,  by  a  decree  of  Valentinian 
III.  in  426,  the  opinions  of  five  of  the  great  lawyers,  Papinian, 
Ulpian,  Paul,  Gaius,  and  Modestinus,  had  expressly  been  in- 
vested with  the  force  of  law.  It  were,  however,  quite  accu- 
rate to  say  that,  in  a  practical  point  of  view,  the  Theodosian 
code  was  the  most  important  law  book  of  the  Empire ;  it  is, 
moreover,  the  literary  monument  which  diffuses  the  greatest 
light  over  this  period.1 

The  second  original  document  to  which  I  would  invite  your 
attention,  is  the  Notitia  Imperii  Romani,  that  genuine  impe. 
rial  almanac  of  the  fifth  century,  giving  lists  of  all  the  func- 
tionaries of  the  empire,  and  presenting  a  complete  review  of 
the  whole  of  its  administration,  of  all  the  relations  between 
the  government  and  its  subjects.2  The  Notitia  has  been  illus- 
trated with  the  greatest  learning  by  the  jurisconsult  Pancirolus; 
I  know  of  no  work  which  contains  so  many  remarkable  and 
curious  facts  as  to  the  interior  of  Roman  society. 

I  will  refer  you,  for  a  third  original  source,  to  the  great 
collections  of  the  acts  of  the  councils.  Of  these  there  are 
two ;  the  collections  of  the  councils  held  in  Gaul,  which  were 
published  by  Pere  Sirmond,3  with  a  supplementary  volume 
compiled  by  Lalande,4  and  the  general  collection  of  councils 
compiled  by  the  Pere  Labbe.5 

Of  modern  works  connected  with  the  subject,  I  will  first 
mention  those  French  productions  which  I  think  you  may 
consult  with  great  advantage. 

1.  There  is  the  Theorie  des  Lois  poliliques  de  la  Monarchic 
Frangaise,  a  work  very  little  known,  published  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  revolution.6  It  was  compiled  by  a  woman, 
Mademoiselle  de  Lezardiere,  and  consists  of  very  little  more 


1  Six  vols,  folio,  avec  les  Commentaires  de  J.  Godefroy.     Ritter 
Leipsig,  1738. 

2  The  best  edition  is  that  printed  in  the  7th  vol.  of  the  Theiauntt 
Antiquitatum  Romanarum  of  Graevius. 

3  Three  vols  folio.     Paris,  1629. 
*One  vol.  folio.     Paris,  1660. 

*  Eighteen  vols,  folio.     Paris,  1672. 

*  Id  1792 ;  eight  vols.  8vo.     Parji. 


34  HISTORY   or 

than  original  texts  legislative  and  historical,  illustrating  tne 
condition,  the  manners,  the  constitutions,  of  the  Franks  and 
Gauls  from  the  third  to  the  ninth  century ;  but  these  texts 
are  selected,  arranged,  and  translated  with  a  skill  and  exact- 
ness rarely  to  be  met  with. 

2.  You  will  permit  me  to  point  out  to  you,  in  the  second 
place,  the  Essais  sur  VHistoire  de  France  that  I  myself  have 
published,1  inasmuch  as  in  them  I  have  more  especially  ap- 
plied myself  to  retracing,  under  its  different  aspects,  the  state 
of  society  in  Gaul,  immediately  before  and  immediately  after 
the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire. 

As  to  ecclesiastical  history,  Fleury's  appears  to  me  the 
best. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  German,  will  do  well 
to  read, 

1.  The  History  of  the  Roman  Law  in  the  Middle  Ages,  by 
M.  de  Savigny,9  a  work  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  show  that 
the  Roman  law  has  never  perished  in  Europe,  but  is  to  be 
met  with  throughout  the  period  extending  from  the  fifth  to  the 
thirteenth  centuries,  in  a  multitude  of  institutions,  laws,  and 
customs.  The  moral  state  of  society  is  not  always  accu- 
rately appreciated  in  this  work,  nor  represented  with  fidelity ; 
but  as  to  facts,  its  learning  and  critical  acumen  are  of  a  supe- 
rior character. 

2.  The  General  History  of  the  Christian  Church,  by  M. 
Henke  ;3  a  work  incompletely  developed,  and  which  leaves 
much  to  be  desired  in  reference  to  the  knowledge  and  appre- 
ciation of  facts,  but  learned  and  judicious  in  the  criticisms  it 
furnishes,  and  characterized  by  an  independence  of  spirit  too 
seldom  met  with  in  works  of  this  nature. 

3.  The  Manual  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  of  M.  Gieseler, 
the  latest  and  most  complete,  upon  this  subject,  of  those 
/earned  summaries  so  extensively  diffused  in  Germany,  ana 
which  serve  as  guides  when  we  are  desirous  of  entering  upon 
any  particular  study. 

You  have  probably  remarked  that  I  point  out  here  two 
classes  of  works ;  the  one  relating  to  civil,  the  other  to  eccle- 
siastical history.  I  do  so  for  this  reason ;  that  at  the  period 
we  speak  of,  there  existed  in  the  Roman  world  two  very 


1  One  vol.  8vo.     Paris.  2  Six  vols.  8vo. 

8  Six  vols.  b'vo.  4th  ed.     Brunswick,  1S00 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  35 

different  societies — the  civil  society  and  the  religious  society. 
They  differed  not  only  in  their  object,  not  only  in  that  they 
were  governed  by  principles  and  by  institutions  entirely  dis- 
similar, not  only  in  that  the  one  was  old  and  the  other  young ; 
there  existed  between  them  a  diversity  far  more  profound,  far 
more  important.  The  civil  society,  to  all  outward  appear- 
ances, seemed  Christian,  equally  with  the  religious  society. 
The  great  majority  of  the  European  kings  and  nations  had 
embraced  Christianity ;  but,  at  bottom,  the  civil  society  was 
pagan.  Its  institutions,  its  laws,  its  manners,  were  all  essen- 
tially pagan.  It  was  entirely  a  society  formed  by  paganism  ; 
not  at  all  a  society  formed  by  Christianity.  Christian  civil 
society  did  not  develope  itself  till  a  later  period,  till  after  the 
invasion  of  the  barbarians ;  it  belongs,  in  point  of  time,  to 
modern  history.  In  the  fifth  century,  whatever  outward  ap- 
pearances may  say  to  the  contrary,  there  existed  between 
civil  society  and  religious  society  incoherence,  contradiction, 
contest ;  for  they  were  essentially  different  both  in  their  origin 
and  in  their  nature. 

I  would  pray  you  never  to  lose  sight  of  this  diversity ;  it  is 
a  diversity  which  alone  enables  us  to  comprehend  the  real 
condition  of  the  Roman  world  at  this  period. 

What  then  was  this  civil  society,  nominally  Christian,  but 
in  reality  the  pagan  ? 

Let  us  first  consider  it  in  its  outward,  most  obvious  aspect, 
in  its  government,  in  its  institutions,  its  administration. 

The  empire  of  the  west  was  divided,  in  the  fifth  century 
into  two  prefectures,  that  of  Gaul  and  that  of  Italy.  The 
prefecture  of  Gaul  comprised  three  diocesses — that  of  Gaul, 
that  of  Spain,  and  that  of  Britain.  At  the  head  of  the  pre- 
fecture was  a  pretorian-prefect ;  at  the  head  of  each  diocess 
a  vice-prefect. 

The  pretorian-prefect  of  Gaul  resided  at  Treves.  Gaul 
was  divided  Into  seventeen  provinces,  the  affairs  of  each  of 
which  were  administered  by  a  governor  of  its  own,  under  the 
general  orders  of  the  prefect.  Of  these  provinces,  six  were 
governed  by  consulares,1  the  other  eleven  by  presidents.1 

i  Viennensis,  Lugdunensis  1 ;  Germania  Superior,  Germania  Infe- 
rior, Belgica  1  and  2. 

*  Alpcs  Maritimae,  Alpes  Pcnninae,  Scquanensis  1 ;  Acjuitanica  1 
and  2 ;  Novempopulonia,  Narbonensis  1  and  2 ;  Lugdunensis  2  and  3 
Lugdunensis  Senonensis. 


36  HISTORY    OP 

As  to  tne  mode  of  administration,  there  existed  no  impof 
tant  distinction  between  these  two  classes  of  governors ;  they 
exercised  in  reality  the  same  power,  differing  only  in  rank 
and  title. 

In  Gaul,  as  elsewhere,  the  governors  had  two  kinds  of 
functions : 

1st.  They  were  the  emperor's  immediate  representatives, 
charged,  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  Empire,  with  the 
interests  of  the  central  government,  with  the  collection  of 
taxes,  with  the  management  of  the  public  domains,  the  direc- 
tion of  the  imperial  posts,  the  levy  and  regulation  of  the  armies 
— in  a  word,  with  the  fulfilment  of  all  the  relations  between 
the  emperor  and  his  subjects. 

2d.  They  had  the  administration  of  justice  between  the 
subjects  themselves.  The  whole  civil  and  criminal  jurisdic- 
tion was  in  their  hands,  with  two  exceptions.  Certain  towns 
of  Gaul  possessed  what  was  called  jus  Italicum — the  Italian 
law.  In  the  municipia  of  Italy,  the  right  of  administering 
justice  to  the  citizens,  at  least  in  civil  matters  and  in  the  first 
instance,  appertained  to  certain  municipal  magistrates,  Duum- 
viri, Quatuorviri,  Quinquenvales,  Mdiles,  Praetor es,  fyc.  It 
has  been  often  stated  that  the  case  was  the  same  out  of  Italy, 
in  all  the  provinces  as  a  rule,  but  this  is  a  mistake :  it  was 
only  in  a  limited  number  of  these  towns  assimilated  to  the 
Italian  municipia,  that  the  municipal  magistrates  exercised 
any  real  jurisdiction ;  and  this  in  every  instance  subject  to 
an  appeal  to  the  governor. 

There  was  also,  subsequent  to  the  middle  of  the  fourth 
century,  in  almost  all  the  towns,  a  special  magistrate,  called 
defensor,  elected  not  merely  by  the  curia  or  municipal  body 
but  by  the  population  at  large,  whose  duty  it  was  to  defend 
the  interests  of  the  people,  even  against  the  governor  himself, 
if  need  were.  The  defensor  exercised  in  such  matters  the 
jurisdiction  in  the  first  instance ;  he  also  acted  as  judge  in 
that  class  of  cases,  which  we  now  term  police  cases. 

With  these  two  exceptions,  the  governors  alone  adjudicated 
all  suits ;  and  there  was  no  appeal  from  them  except  direct 
to  the  emperor. 

This  jurisdiction  of  theirs  was  exercised  in  the  following 
manner : — In  the  first  ages  of  the  Empire,  conformably  with 
ancient  custom,  he  to  whom  the  jurisdiction  appertained, 
praetor,  provincial  governor,  or  municipal  magistrate,  on  a 
case  being  submitted  to  him,  merely  determined  the  rule  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCS.  37 

law,  the  legal  principle  according  to  which  it  ought  lo  be 
adjudged.  He  decided,  that  is  to  say,  the  question  of  law 
involved  in  the  case,  and  then  appointed  a  private  citizen, 
called  the  judex,  the  veritable  juror,  to  examine  and  decide 
upon  the  question  of  fact.  The  legal  principle  laid  down  by 
the  magistrate  was  applied  to  the  fact  found  by  the  judex, 
and  so  the  case  was  determined. 

By  degrees,  in  proportion  as  imperial  despotism  established 
itself,  and  the  ancient  liberties  of  the  people  disappeared,  the 
intervention  of  the  judex  became  less  regular.  The  magis- 
trates decided,  without  any  reference  to  this  officer,  certain 
matters  which  were  called  extraordinarice  cogniliones.  Dio- 
cletian formally  abolished  the  institution  in  the  provinces ;  it 
no  longer  appeared  but  as  an  exception ;  and  Justinian  testi- 
fies, that  in  his  time  it  had  fallen  completely  into  desuetude. 
The  entire  jurisdiction  in  all  cases  then  appertained  to  the 
governors — agents  and  representatives  of  the  emperor  in  all 
things,  and  masters  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  the  citizens, 
with  no  appeal  from  their  judgments  but  to  the  emperor  in 
person. 

In  order  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  extent  of  their  power, 
and  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  exercised,  I  have  drawn 
up  from  the  Notitia  Imperii  Momani — a  list  of  the  officers 
of  a  provincial  governor ;  a  list  exactly  similar  to  that  which 
we  might  at  the  present  day  derive  from  the  Almanack  Royal, 
of  the  official  establishment  of  a  government  office,  or  a  pre- 
fecture. They  are  the  officers  of  the  pretorian  prefect  whom 
I  am  about  to  introduce  to  you,  but  the  governors  subordinate 
to  the  pretorian  prefect,  the  consulares,  correctores,  prat- 
sides,  exercised,  under  his  superintendence,  the  same  powers 
with  himself ;  and  their  establishments  were  almost  entirely 
the  same  as  his,  only  on  a  smaller  scale. 

The  principal  officers  of  a  praetorian  prefect  were  : 

1.  Princeps,  or  primiscrinius  officii.  He  cited  before 
the  tribunal  of  the  prefect  those  who  had  business  there  :  ho 
drew  up  the  judgments  :  it  was  upon  his  order  that  accused 
persons  were  taken  into  custody.  His  principal  business, 
however,  was  the  collection  of  taxes.  He  enjoyed  various 
privileges. 

2.  Cornicularius. — He  made  public  the  ordinances,  edicts, 
and  judgments  of  the  governor.  His  post  was  one  of  very 
great  antiquity  ;  the  tribunes  of  the  people  had  their  cornicu. 
larius  (Val.   Maximus,  I.,  vi.  c.   11).     He  was  so  entitled 


38  HISTORY   OF 

because  he  carried  with  him,  as  a  distinctive  badge,  a  hoi  a 
of  which  he  made  use,  in  all  probability,  to  impose  silence  on 
the  crowd  when  he  was  about  to  perform  his  official  duty. 
The  prcBco,  or  herald,  was  under  his  direction,  and  he  had  a 
large  establishment  of  clerks.  His  period  of  office  was  only 
a  year.     He  was  a  species  of  recorder. 

3.  Adjutor,  a  supplementary  officer,  whose  services  appear 
to  have  been  due  to  all  the  other  functionaries,  when  re- 
quired ;  his  specific  business  was  to  arrest  accused  persons,  to 
superintend  the  infliction  of  the  torture,  &c.  He  had  an  office 
of  his  own. 

4.  Commentariensis,  the  director  of  prisons,  an  officer 
higher  in  rank  than  our  jailers,  but  having  the  same  func- 
tions ;  he  had  the  internal  regulation  of  the  prisons,  conducted 
the  prisoners  before  the  tribunals,  furnished  them  with  pro- 
visions when  they  were  destitute,  had  the  torture  administered 
to  them,  &c. 

5.  Actuarii  vel  ab  actis. — These  officers  drew  up  contracts 
for  the  citizens,  and  all  such  deeds  as  the  law  required  to  beai 
a  legal  character,  such  as  wills,  grants,  &c.  They  were  the 
predecessors  of  our  notaries.  As  the  actuarii  attached  to  the 
office  of  the  pretorian  prefect  or  of  the  prceses,  could  not  be 
everywhere,  the  decemvirs  and  other  municipal  magistrates 
were  authorized  to  act  as  their  deputies. 

6.  Numerarii. — These  were  the  keepers  of  the  accounts. 
The  ordinary  governors  had  two,  called  tabularii ;  the  prae- 
torian prefects  four: — 1.  The  Numerarius  Bonorum,  who 
kept  an  account  of  the  funds  appertaining  to  the  exchequer, 
the  revenues  of  which  went  to  the  comes  rerum  privatarum  ; 
2.  The  numerarius  tributorum,  who  was  entrusted  with 
the  accounts  of  the  public  revenues  which  went  to  the 
ararium,  and  to  the  account  of  the  sacred  donatives;  3.  The 
numerarius  auri,  who  received  the  gold  drawn  from  the 
provinces,  had  the  silver  money  he  received  changed  into 
gold,  and  kept  the  accounts  of  the  gold  mines  within  his 
district ;  4.  The  numerarius  operum  publicorum,  who  kept 
the  accounts  of  the  various  public  works,  such  as  forts,  walls, 
aqueducts,  baths,  &c,  all  of  which  were  maintained  by  a 
third  of  the  revenues  of  the  cities,  and  by  a  land  tax  levied  on 
and  according  to  occasion.  These  numerarii  had  under  their 
orders  a  large  body  of  clerks. 

7.  Sub-adjuva  ;  an  assistant  to  the  adjutor. 

8.  Curator  Epistolarum. — This  was  the  secretary  who  had 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  39 

ehdige  of  the  correspondence  ;  he  had  a  number  of  subordi 
nates,  called  epistolares.     ■ 

9.  Regerendarius. — The  officer  charged  to  transmit  to  the 
prefect  the  petitions  of  the  subject,  and  to  write  the  answers. 

10.  Exceptores. — They  wrote  out  all  the  documents  re- 
lating to  the  judgments  given  by  the  prefects,  and  read  thero 
before  his  tribunal ;  they  were  under  the  direction  of  a  primi- 
cerius.     They  may  be  assimilated  to  our  registrars. 

11.  Singularii,  or  Singulares,  Ducenarii,  Centenarii,  fyc. — ■ 
Officers  commanding  a  sort  of  military  police  attached  to  the 
service  of  the  provincial  governors.  The  singulares  attended 
these  functionaries  as  a  guard,  executed  their  orders  in  the 
province,  arrested  accused  parties,  and  conducted  them  to 
prison.  They  acted  as  collectors  of  the  taxes  ;  the  office  of 
the  ducenarii  (captains  of  two  hundred  men,  or  cohortales),  of 
the  centenarii,  the  sexagenarii,  was  the  same. 

12.  Primilipus. — The  chief  officer  of  these  cohortales  ;  it 
was  his  especial  charge  to  superintend  the  distribution  of  pro- 
visions to  the  soldiers,  in  the  name  of  the  pretorian  prelect, 
and  to  inspect  the  provisions  previous  to  delivery. 

It  is  obvious  that  only  the  more  prominent  employments 
are  indicated  here,  and  that  these  officers  must  have  had  a 
great  many  others  under  their  direction.  In  the  offices  of  the 
praetor  of  Africa,  there  were  398  persons  employed,  in  those 
of  the  count  of  the  East,  600.  Independently  of  their  number, 
you  perceive,  from  the  nature  of  their  functions,  that  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  provincial  governors  comprehended  all 
things,  all  classes,  that  the  whole  society  had  to  do  with  them, 
and  they  with  the  whole  of  society. 

I  will  now  direct  your  attention,  for  a  moment,  to  the 
salaries  which  these  officers  received  ;  you  may  derive  from 
this  information  some  rather  curious  illustrations  of  the  social 
state  of  the  period. 

Under  Alexander  Severus,  according  to  a  passage  in  his 
biographer  Lampridius,1  the  governors  of  a  province  received 
twenty  pounds  of  silver  and  one  hundred  pieces  of  gold,4  six 
pitchers  (phialas)  of  wine,  two  mules,  and  two  horses,  two 
state  suits  (vestes  forenses),  and  one  ordinary  suit  (vestes 
domesticas),  a  bathing  tub,  a  cook,  a  .muleteer,  and  lastly  (I 
have  to  solicit  your  pardon  for  this  detail,  but  it  is  too  charac- 


'  Chap,  xlii  •  About  150/. 


40  HISTORY   OF 

teristic  to  be  omitted),  when  they  were  not  married,  a  con 
cubine,  quod  sine  his  esse  non  possent,  says  the  text.  Whec 
they  quitted  office,  they  were  obliged  to  return  the  mules,  the 
horses,  the  muleteer,  and  the  cook.  If  the  emperor  was 
satisfied  with  their  administration,  they  were  allowed  to  retain 
the  other  gifts  he  had  bestowed  upon  them  ;  if  he  was  dissatis- 
fied, they  were  compelled  to  give  him  four  times  the  value 
of  what  they  had  received.  Under  Constantine,  the  part  pay- 
ment  in  goods  still  subsisted ;  we  find  the  governors  of  twc 
great  provinces,  Asiana  and  Pontus,  receiving  an  allowance 
of  oil  for  four  lamps.  It  was  not  until  the  reign  of  Theodo- 
sius  II.,  in  the  first  half  of  the  fifth  century,  that  this  mode 
of  paying  the  governors  was  altogether  discontinued.  The 
subordinate  employes,  however,  continued,  down  to  the  time 
of  Justinian,  to  receive  in  the  eastern  empire  a  portion  of 
their  salaries  in  provisions  and  other  goods.  I  dwell  upon 
this  circumstance  because  it  furnishes  a  striking  idea  of  the 
inactive  state  of  commercial  relations,  and  of  the  imperfect 
circulating  medium  of  the  Empire. 

The  facts  I  have  stated,  which  are  perfectly  clear,  make 
equally  evident  the  nature  of  the  government  under  our  con- 
sideration ;  an  utter  absence  of  independence  on  the  part  of 
the  various  functionaries ;  all  of  them  subordinate  one  to  the 
other,  up  to  the  emperor,  who  absolutely  disposes  and  decides 
the  fate  of  them  all.  No  appeal  for  the  subject  from  the 
functionary,  but  to  the  emperor ;  nothing  like  co-ordinate, 
co-equal  powers,  destined  to  control  and  limit  one  another,  is 
to  be  met  with.  All  proceeds  straight  upwards  or  down- 
wards, on  the  principle  of  a  sole,  strict  hierarchy.  It  is  a 
pure,  unmitigated,  administrative  despotism. 

Do  not,  however,  conclude  from  what  I  have  stated,  that 
this  system  of  government,  this  administrative  machinery,  was 
instituted  for  the  sole  behoof  of  absolute  power,  that  it  never 
aimed  at  or  produced  any  other  effect  than  that  of  promoting 
the  views  of  despotism.  In  order  to  appreciate  the  matter 
fairly,  we  must  present  to  our  minds  a  just  idea  of  the  state 
of  the  provinces,  and  more  especially  of  Gaul,  at  the  moment 
preceding  that  when  the  empire  took  the  place  of  the  republic. 
There  were  two  powers  in  authority,  that  of  the  Roman  pro- 
consul, sent  to  administer,  for  a  temporary  period,  such  or  such 
a  province,  and  that  of  the  old  national  chiefs,  the  governors 
whom  the  country  obeyed  before  it  passed  under  the  Roman 
yoke.     These  two  powers  were,  upon  the  whole,  more  iniqui- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  4l 

tous,  in  my  opinion,  and  more  noxious  in  their  operation,  than 
the  imperial  administration  which  superseded  them.  I  can 
conceive  no  affliction  more  fearful  for  a  province  than  the  go- 
vernment of  a  Roman  proconsul,  a  greedy  tyrant,  coming 
there  for  a  greater  or  less  period,  in  the  sole  view  of  making 
his  fortune,  and  giving  unchecked  way  for  a  time  to  all  the 
impulses  of  grasping  self-interest,  to  all  the  caprices  of  abso- 
lute power.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  these  proconsuls  were 
every  one  a  Verres  or  a  Piso,  but  the  great  crimes  of  a  period 
enable  us  in  their  history  to  estimate  the  measure  of  iniquity 
in  that  period  ;  and  if  it  required  a  Verres  to  arouse  the  in- 
dignation of  Rome,  we  may  fairly  judge  how  far  a  proconsul 
might  go,  so  that  he  kept  within  the  limits  outstepped  by  the 
more  daring  monster  denounced  by  Cicero.  As  to  the  ancient 
chiefs  of  the  country,  theirs  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  a  govern- 
ment altogether  irregular,  oppressive,  barbarous.  The  civili- 
zation of  Gaul,  when  it  was  conquered  by  the  Romans,  was 
very  inferior  to  that  of  Rome  :  the  two  powers  which  held 
sway  there  were,  on  the  one  hand,  that  of  the  priests,  the 
Druids  ;  on  the  other,  that  of  the  chiefs,  whom  we  may  assi- 
milate with  the  more  modern  chiefs  of  clans.  The  ancient 
social  organization  of  the  country  part  of  Gaul  had,  in  point 
of  fact,  a  close  resemblance  to  that  of  Ireland  or  of  the  High- 
lands of  Scotland  in  later  times ;  the  population  clustered 
round  the  more  considerable  personages,  round  the  great  landed 
proprietors  :  Vercingetorix,  for  example,  was  probably  a  chief 
of  this  description,  the  leader  of  a  multitude  of  peasantry  and 
of  petty  landholders  connected  by  personal  considerations  with 
nis  domains,  with  his  family,  with  his  interests.  This  system 
may  doubtless  give  birth  to  lofty  and  honorable  sentiments, 
it  may  inspire  those  who  live  under  it  with  powerfully 
marked  habits  and  associations,  with  strong  mutual  attach- 
ments ;  but  it  is,  on  the  whole,  far  from  favorable  to  the  pro- 
gress of  civilization.  There  is  nothing  regular,  nothing  com- 
prehensive in  it ;  the  ruder  passions  have  full  and  unchecked 
sway ;  private  warfare  is  incessant  j  manners  make  no  ad- 
vance ;  the  decision  of  all  questions  is  entirely  a  matter  of 
individual  or  local  interest  j  every  feature  in  the  system  is  an 
obstacle  to  the  increase  of  prosperity,  to  the  extension  of  ideas, 
to  the  rich  and  rapid  development  of  man  and  of  society. 
When  therefore  the  imperial  administration  came  into  opera- 
lion  in  Gaul,  however  bitter  may  have  been  the  resentment 
md  regret  which  naturally  filled  patriotic  minds,  we  can  en- 


42  HISTORY    OF 

tertain  no  doubt  that  it  was  more  enlightened,  more  impartial, 
more  guided  by  general  views  and  by  considerations  of  really 
public  interests,  than  the  old  national  government  had  been. 
It  was  neither  mixed  up  with  jealousies  of  family,  city,  or 
tribe,  nor  fettered  to  savage  and  stagnant  ideas  and  manners 
by  prejudices  of  religion  or  birth.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
new  governors,  invested  with  more  permanent  functions,  con- 
trolled,  up  to  a  certain  point,  by  the  imperial  authority,  were 
loss  grasping,  less  violent,  less  oppressive  than  the  proconsuls 
of  the  senate  had  been.  We  accordingly  observe  with  the 
progress  of  the  first,  second,  and  even  the  third  centuries,  a 
progress  in  the  prosperity  and  civilization  of  Gaul.  The  towns 
grew  rich,  and  extended  themselves  ;  the  freemen  became 
more  and  more  numerous.  It  had  been,  amongst  the  ancient 
Gauls,  a  custom,  or  rather  a  necessity,  for  the  individual  free- 
men to  place  themselves  under  the  protection  of  some  great 
man,  to  enrol  themselves  under  the  banner  of  a  patron,  as  the 
only  mode  of  effecting  security  for  themselves.  This  cus- 
tom, without  entirely  disappearing,  abated  in  the  first  ages  of 
imperial  administration  ;  the  freemen  assumed  a  more-  inde- 
pendent existence,  which  proves  that  their  existence  was  better 
secured  by  the  general  operation  of  the  laws,  by  the  public 
power.  There  was  greater  equality  introduced  among  the 
various  classes,  none  of  whom  were  now  arbitrarily  excluded 
from  the  attainment  of  fortune  and  power.  Manners  were 
softened,  ideas  expanded,  the  country  became  covered  with 
roads  and  buildings.  Everything  indicated  a  society  in  course 
of  development,  a  civilization  in  progress. 

But  the  benefits  of  despotism  are  shortlived  ;  it  poisons  the 
very  springs  which  it  lays  open.  If  it  display  a  merit,  it  is 
an  exceptional  one  ;  if  a  virtue,  it  is  created  of  circumstances  ; 
and  once  this  better  hour  has  passed  away,  all  the  vices  of 
its  nature  break  forth  with  redoubled  violence,  and  weigh 
down  society  in  every  direction. 

In  proportion  as  the  Empire,  or  more  properly  speaking,  the 
power  of  the  emperor,  grew  weaker,  in  proportion  as  it  found 
itself  a  prey  to  external  and  internal  dangers,  its  wants  grew 
greater  and  more  urgent ;  it  required  more  money,  more  men, 
more  means  of  action  of  every  description  ;  it  demanded  more 
and  more  at  the  hands  of  the  subject  nations,  and  at  the  same 
time  did  less  and  less  for  them  in  return.  The  larger  rein- 
forcements of  troops  were  sent  to  the  frontiers  to  resist  the 
barbarians,  the  fewer  of  course  remained  to  maintain  order 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  43 

In  the  interior.  The  more  money  there  was  spent  at  Constan- 
tinople or  at  Rome  to  purchase  the  services  of  auxiliaries,  or 
to  bribe  dangerous  courtiers,  the  less  had  the  emperor  to  ex- 
pend upon  the  due  administration  of  the  provinces.  Despot- 
ism thus  found  itself  at  once  more  exacting  and  more  feeble, 
necessitated  to  take  more  from  the  people,  and  incapable  of 
protecting  for  them  the  little  it  left  them.  This  double  evil 
had  fully  developed  itself  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century. 
Not  only  at  this  epoch  had  all  social  progress  ceased,  but  a 
retrograde  movement  was  sensibly  felt ;  the  empire  was  in- 
vaded in  every  direction,  and  its  interior  swept  and  devastated 
by  bodies  of  barbarians  ;  the  population  fell  off,  more  espe- 
cially in  the  provinces  ;  in  the  towns,  all  public  works  were 
put  a  stop  to,  all  embellishments  suspended  ;  the  freemen 
once  more  went  in  crowds  to  solicit  the  protection  of  some 
powerful  chief.  Such  are  the  incessant  complaints  of  tne 
Gaulish  writers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  of  Salvienus, 
for  example,  in  his  work  De  Gubernatione  Dei,  perhaps  the 
most  vivid  and  most  interesting  picture  that  we  have  of  the 
period.  In  a  word,  in  every  direction  we  see  manifesting 
themselves  unequivocal  symptoms  of  the  decline  of  the  go- 
vernment, of  the  desolation  of  the  land. 

At  length  the  evil  grew  so  great,  that  the  Roman  empire 
found  itself  unable  to  go  on  ;  it  began  by  recalling  its  troops  ; 
it  said  to  the  provinces,  to  Britain,  to  Gaul :  "  I  can  no  longer 
defend  you  :  you  must  take  care  of  yourselves."  Ere  long 
it  ceased  to  govern  them,  as  it  had  ceased  to  protect  them  : 
its  administrative  officers  withdrew  as  its  armies  had  done. 
This  was  the  fact  which  was  accomplished  in  the  middle  of 
the  fifth  century.  The  Roman  empire  fell  back  in  every 
direction,  and  abandoned,  either  to  the  barbarians  or  to  them- 
selves, the  provinces  which  it  had  taken  so  much  pains  to 
conquer. 

What,  more  especially  in  Gaul,  was  the  society  thus  left  to 
itself,  thus  compelled  to  provide  for  itself?  How  was  it  con- 
stituted ?  What  means,  what  strength  had  it  with  which  to 
protect  itself  ? 

Four  classes  of  persons,  four  different  social  conditions 
existed  at  this  period  in  Gaul.  1.  The  senators;  2.  the 
curiales  ;  3.  the  people,  properly  so  called  ;  4.  the  slaves. 

The  distinct  existence  of  the  senatorial  families  is  attested 
by  all  the  monuments  of  the  period.  We  meet  with  tho 
designation  at  every  step,  in  the  legislative  documents,  and  in 


44  HISTORY   OF 

the  historians.  Did  it  indicate  families  whose  members  b» 
longed  or  had  belonged  to  the  Roman  senate,  or  did  it  merely 
refer  to  the'  Ynunicipal  senators  of  the  Gaulish  towns  ?  This 
is  a  legitimate  question,  since  the  senate  of  each  town,  the 
municipal  body  known  under  the  name  of  curia,  often  also 
called  itself  senate. 

There  can  be  little  doubt,  I  think,  that  it  meant  families 
which  had  belonged  to  the  Roman  senate.  The  emperors, 
who  filled  up  that  senate  just  as  they  pleased,  used  to  recruit 
it  from  the  provinces  with  members  of  the  most  distinguished 
families  in  the  principal  cities.  Those  who  had  occupied  high 
local  offices,  who  had  acted,  for  instance,  as  provincial  gover- 
nors, were  entitled  to  expect  a  seat  in  the  Roman  senate  ;  at 
a  later  period,  the  same  favor  was  granted  to  persons  who 
had  been  nominated  to  certain  honorary  charges ;  and  ulti- 
mately the  possession  of  a  mere  title,  that  of  clarissimus, 
which  was  conferred  in  the  same  way  that  the  title  of  baron 
or  count  is  now,  was  sufficient  to  give  its  holder  a  seat  in  the 
senate. 

This  quality  gave  certain  privileges  which  raised  the 
senators  to  a  position  superior  to  that  of  the  other  citizens. 
1,  the  title  itself;  2,  the  right  to  be  tried  by  a  special  tribunal  : 
when  a  senator  had  to  be  tried  for  a  capital  offence,  the  ma- 
gistrate was  obliged  to  associate  with  himself  five  assessors, 
drawn  by  lot ;  3,  exemption  from  torture ;  4,  exemption  from 
filling  municipal  offices,  which  at  this  time  had  become  a  very 
serious  burden. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  senatorial  families.  It  were, 
perhaps,  extravagant  to  say  that  they  formed  a  class  of  citi- 
zens essentially  distinct  from  the  $est,  for  the  senators  were 
taken  from  all  classes  of  the  population  ;  we  find  even  freed- 
men  among  them — and  the  emperor  could  at  any  time  deprive 
them,  or  any  of  them,  of  the  privileges  he  had  conferred. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  as  these  privileges  were  real  and  sub- 
stantial, and  moreover  hereditary,  at  least  in  reference  to 
children  born  after  the  elevation  of  the  father  to  the  senatorial 
dignity,  we  may  fairly  point  to  them  as  creating  an  essential 
distinction  in  social  relations,  as  manifesting  the  principle,  of 
at  all  events,  the  very  decided  appearance  of  a  political  aris- 
tocracy. 

The  second  class  of  citizens  was  that  of  the  curiales  or 
decuriones,  men  of  easy  circumstances,  members,  not  of  the 
Roman  senate,  but  of  the  curia  or  municipal  body  of  theft 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  45 

own  city,  lhave, in  my  Essai  sur  VHisloire  de  France, drawn 
up  a  summary  of  laws  and  facts  relative  to  the  curiales;  and 
in  order  to  give  an  exact  picture  of  their  condition,  I  will,  with 
your  permission,  introduce  this  summary  here  : 

The  class  of  curiales  comprised  all  such  inhabitants  of 
towns,  whether  natives  (jnunicipes)  or  settlers  (incotce),  as 
possessed  landed  property  to  the  extent  of  not  less  than 
twenty-five  acres  (jugera),  and  were  not  included  in  any 
way  among  the  privileged  persons  exempt  from  curial 
functions. 

Persons  belonged  to  this  class  either  by  origin  ">r  by  nomi- 
nation. 

Every  son  of  a  curialis  was  himself  a  curialis,  and  bound 
to  fulfil  all  the  duties  inherent  in  that  quality. 

Eyery  inhabitant  of  a  town,  trader  or  otherwise,  who  ac- 
quired landed  property  to  the  extent  of  twenty-five  acres  and 
upwards,  was  liable  to  bo  claimed  by  the  curia,  and  could  not 
refuse  to  join  it. 

No  curialis  was  allowed  by  any  personal  and  voluntary  act 
to  relinquish  his  condition.  They  were  prohibited  from  living 
in  the  country,  from  entering  the  army,  from  accepting 
offices  which  would  relieve  them  from  municipal  functions, 
until  they  had  exercised  all  these  functions,  from  that  of  sim- 
ple member  of  the  curia  up  to  that  of  first  magistrate  of  the 
city.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  were  they  permitted  to  be- 
come soldiers,  public  functionaries,  and  senators.  The  chil- 
dren born  to  them  before  their  elevation  remained  in  the  class 
of  curiales. 

They  were  not  allowed  to  become  priests  unless  they  trans- 
ferred their  property  to  some  one  who  was  willing  to  become 
a  curialis  in  their  place,  or  to  the  curia  itself. 

The  curiales  were  constantly  endeavoring  to  relinquish 
their  condition,  and  we  accordingly  find  a  multitude  of  laws 
prescribing  the  rigorous  pursuit  of  all  such  as  had  fled,  or 
surreptitiously  entered  the  army,  or  the  order  of  priests,  or  the 
senate,  or  into  public  functions,  and  ordering  them,  when  dis- 
covered, to  be  compelled  to  return  to  their  curia. 

The  functions  and  duties  of  the  curiales  thus  forcibly  con. 
fined  within  their  curia,  were  as  follow  : — 

1.  To  administer  the  affairs  of  the  municipium,  its  revenuo 
and  its  expenditure,  either  deliberatively  as  a  private  member 
of  the  curia,  or  executively  as  a  municipal  magistrate.  In 
this  double  situation,  the  curiales  were  not  only  responsible 

17 


46  HISTORY   OF 

for  their  own  individual  conduct,  but  they  were  called  upon  o 
provide  for  the  wants  of  the  town  out  of  their  own  means,  ii 
the  civic  revenue  was  insufficient. 

2.  To  collect  the  public  taxes.  Here  also  they  were  them, 
selves  responsible  if  they  failed  to  levy  the  full  amount  im- 
posed. Any  lands  subject  to  the  land-tax  which  were  aban- 
doned by  their  possessors  reverted  to  the  curia,  who  were 
bound  to  pay  the  tax  in  respect  of  them,  until  some  one  was 
found  who  was  willing  to  take  the  land  and  its  ^abilities  upon 
himself.  If  no  such  person  appeared,  the  tax  continued  to  be 
made  up  amongst  the  other  proprietors. 

3.  No  curialis  could  sell,  without  the  permission  of  li,e 
provincial  governor,  the  property  in  respect  of  which  he  was 
a  curialis. 

4.  Heirs  of  curiales,  not  themselves  members  of  the  curia, 
and  the  widow  or  inheriting  daughter  of  a  curialis  who  mar- 
ried  a  man  not  a  curialis,  were  obliged  to  resign  a  fourth  of 
their  property  to  the  curia. 

5.  Curiales  without  children  could  only  dispose  by  will  of 
a  fourth  of  their  property.  The  other  three-fourths  went  to 
the  curia. 

6.  They  were  not  allowed  to  absent  themselves  from  the 
municipium,  even  for  a  limited  time,  without  the  permission 
of  the  provincial  governor. 

7.  If  they  quitted  their  curia  without  such  permission,  and 
could  not,  after  a  certain  interval,  be  found,  their  property 
was  confiscated  for  the  benefit  of  the  curia. 

8.  The  burden  of  the  impost  designated  Aurum  Corona- 
rium,  which  was  a  tribute  paid  to  the  prince  on  certain  solemn 
occasions,  fell  solely  upon  the  curiales. 

By  way  of  compensating  the  curiales  for  these  heavy  in- 
cumbrances, they  were : — 

1.  Exempt  from  the  torture,  except  in  very  grave  cases. 

2.  Exempt  from  certain  corporeal  and  ignominious  punish- 
ments, which  were  reserved  for  the  lower  classes. 

3.  After  having  gone  through  the  whole  series  of  munici- 
pal offices,  those  who  had  managed  to  escape  the  ruinous  risks 
which  had  presented  themselves  at  every  stage  of  their  pro- 
gress, were  exempt  from  serving  any  municipal  office  for  the 
future,  enjoyed  certain  honors,  and  not  unfrequently  received 
the  title  of  comes. 

4.  Decayed  decuriones  were  maintained  at  the  expense  of 
the  town. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FKANCE.  47 

I  need  not  point  out  to  you  how  hard  and  oppressive  this 
condition  was — into  what  a  state  it  necessarily  tended  to  re- 
duce the  burgher  class  in  all  the  towns.  We  accordingly 
find  every  indication  that  this  class  became,  day  after  day, 
less  numerous.  There  are  no  documents  from  which  we  can 
form  any  satisfactory  idea  of  the  number  of  curiales.  A  list 
of  the  members  of  each  curia,  album  curia,  was,  indeed,  drawn 
up  every  year;  but  these  lists  have  disappeared.  M.  de 
Savigny  cites  one,  after  Fabretti,  the  album  of  Canusium 
(Canosa),  a  small  town  of  Italy.  It  is  *br  the  year  223,  and 
sets  down  the  number  of  the  curiales  of  tnat  town  at  a  hundred 
and  forty-eight.  Judging  from  their  extent  and  comparative 
importance,  the  larger  towns  of  Gaul,  Aries,  Narbonne,  Tou- 
louse, Lyons,  Nismes,  had  far  more  than  this  number.  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  indeed,  that  such  was  the  case  in  the  earlier 
periods ;  but  as  I  have  said,  the  curiales  became  constantly 
fewer  and  fewer,  and  at  the  epoch  on  which  we  are  now 
engaged,  there  were  scarcely  more  than  a  hundred  of  them  in 
the  very  largest  cities. 

The  third  class  of  the  Gaulish  community  consisted  of  the 
people,  especially  so  called — the  plebs.  This  class  compre- 
hended, on  the  one  hand,  the  petty  landholders,  whose  pro- 
perty was  not  sufficient  to  qualify  them  for  the  curia  ;  on  the 
other,  the  small  tradespeople  and  the  free  artisans.  I  have 
no  observations  to  make  with  reference  to  the  petty  landholders 
in  this  class ;  they  were  probably  very  few  in  number ;  but 
with  reference  to  the  free  artisans,  it  is  necessary  to  enter 
into  some  explanations. 

You  are  all  aware  that  under  the  republic  and  in  the  earlier 
years  of  the  empire,  operative  industry  was  a  domestic  pro- 
fession, carried  on  by  the  slaves  for  the  benefit  of  their  mas- 
ters. Every  proprietor  of  slaves  had  whatever  mechanical 
production  ho  required  manufactured  in  his  own  house ;  he 
had  slave-blacksmiths,  slave-shoemakers,  slave-carpenters, 
slave-ironworkers,  &c.  And  he  not  only  employed  them  in 
making  things  for  himself,  but  he  sold  the  products  of  their 
industry  to  freemen,  his  clients  and  others,  who  had  no  slaves 
of  their  own. 

By  one  of  those  revolutions  which  work  on  slowly  and  un- 
seen until  they  become  accomplished  and  manifest  at  a  parti- 
cular epoch,  whose  course  we  have  not  followed,  and  whose 
origin  we  never  trace  back,  it  happened  that  industry  threw 
off  the  domestic  menial  character  it  had  so  long  worn,  and  tha* 


48  HISTORY    OF 

instead  of  slave  artisans,  the  world  saw  free  artisans,  who 
worked,  not  for  a  master,  but  for  the  public,  and  for  their 
own  profit  and  benefit.  This  was  an  immense  change  in  the 
state  of  society,  a  change  pregnant  with  incalculable  results. 
When  and  how  it  was  operated  in  the  Roman  world,  I  know 
not,  nor  has  any  one  else,  I  believe,  identified  its  precise  date ; 
but  at  the  period  we  are  now  considering,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fifth  century,  it  was  in  full  action ;  there  were  in 
all  the  large  towns  of  Gaul  a  numerous  class  of  free  artisans, 
already  erected  into  corporations,  into  bodies  formally  repre- 
sented by  some  of  their  own  members.  The  majority  of  these 
trade-corporations,  the  origin  of  which  is  usually  assigned 
to  the  middle  ages,  may  readily  be  traced  back,  more  espe- 
cially in  the  south  of  Gaul  and  in  Italy,  to  the  Roman  world. 
Ever  since  the  fifth  century,  we  come  upon  indications  of 
them,  more  or  less  direct,  at  every  epoch  of  history ;  already, 
at  that  period,  they  constituted  in  many  towns  one  of  the 
principal,  one  of  the  most  important  portions  of  the  popular 
community. 

The  fourth  class  was  that  of  slaves ;  of  these  there  were 
two  kinds.  We  are  too  much  in  the  habit  of  attaching  to  the 
word  slave,  one  bare  single  idea, — of  connecting  with  the  term 
one  sole  condition  ;  this  is  an  entire  misconception.  We  must 
carefully  distinguish,  at  the  period  now  under  our  considera- 
tion, between  the  domestic  slaves  and  the  predial  or  rural 
slaves.  As  to  the  former,  their  condition  was  everywhere 
very  nearly  the  same  ;  but  as  to  those  who  cultivated  the  soil, 
we  find  them  designated  by  a  multitude  of  different  names — 
coloni,  inquilini,  rustici,  agricoke,  aratores,  tributarii,  origin- 
arii,  adscriptitii,  each  name,  well  nigh,  indicating  a  difference 
of  condition.  Some  were  domestic  slaves,  sent  to  a  man's 
country  estate,  to  labor  in  the  fields  there,  instead  of  working 
indoors,  at  his  town-house.  Others  were  regular  serfs  of  the 
soil,  who  could  not  be  sold  except  with  the  domain  itself; 
others  were  farmers,  who  cultivated  the  ground,  in  con- 
sideration of  receiving  half  the  produce  ;  others,  farmers  of  a 
higher  class,  who  paid  a  regular  money  rent ;  others,  a  sort 
of  comparatively  free  laborers,  farm-servants,  who  worked 
for  wages.  Sometimes,  moreover,  these  very  different  con- 
ditions seem  mixed  up  together  under  the  general  denomina- 
tion of  coloni,  sometimes  they  are  designated  under  various 
names. 

Thus,  judging  from  appearances,  and  from  existing  terms, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  49 

u  political  nobility,  an  upper  burgher  class  or  municipal  no- 
bility, the  people  especially  so  called,  domestic  or  rural  slaves, 
in  their  different  conditions,  constituted  Gaulish  society,  con- 
stituted the  strength  which  subsisted  in  Gaul,  after  the  with- 
drawal of  Rome. 

But  what  is  the  real  value  to  be  attached  to  these  appear- 
ances ?  What  was  the  real  strength  of  this  strength  ?  What 
living  and  powerful  society  could  the  concurrences  of  these 
various  classes  form  1 

We  are  in  the  habit  of  giving  to  every  privileged  class  the 
name  of  aristocracy.  I  do  not  conceive  that  this  name  pro- 
perly appertains  to  the  senatorial  families  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken.  It  was  an  hierarchical  collection  of  function- 
aries, but  not  an  aristocracy.  Neither  privilege,  nor  wealth, 
nor  even  with  these  the  possession  of  power,  are  sufficient  to 
constitute  an  aristocracy.  Permit  me  to  call  your  attention 
for  a  moment,  to  the  true  meaning  of  this  term  ;  I  shall  not  go 
far  in  search  of  it ;  I  will  consult,  for  the  history  of  the  word, 
the  language  whence  we  have  derived  it. 

In  the  more  ancient  Greek  authors,  the  word  apuw,  apwros, 
generally  means  the  strongest,  the  person  possessing  the  su- 
periority in  personal,  physical,  material  strength.  We  find 
the  term  thus  employed  in  Homer,  Hesiod,  and  even  in  some 
of  the  choruses  of  Sophocles  ;  it  came,  perhaps,  from  the  word 
which  designated  the  God  Mars,  the  God  of  Strength,  Ap«. 

As  we  advance  in  the  progress  of  Greek  civilization,  as  we 
approach  the  period  when  social  development  gave  effect  to 
other  causes  of  superiority  than  physical  force,  the  word 
apioros  designates  the  great,  powerful,  the  most  considerable, 
tlie  most  wealthy ;  it  is  the  title  assigned  to  the  principal 
citizens,  whatever  the  sources  of  their  power  and  influence. 

Going  a  little  further,  we  come  to  the  philosophers,  to  the 
men  whose  work  it  was  to  elevate  and  purify  ideas ;  with 
them  the  word  aptoros  is  often  used  to  convey  a  meaning  of  a 
far  more  moral  character ;  it  indicates  the  best,  the  most  vir- 
tuous, the  most  able  man ;  intellectual  superiority.  In  the 
eyes  of  these  definers,  the  aristocratic  government  was  the 
government  of  the  best,  that  is  to  say,  the  ideal  of  govern- 
ments. 

Thus,  then,  physical  force,  social  preponderance,  moral 
superiority — thus,  so  to  speak,  and  judging  from  the  vicissi- 
tudes Lu  the  meanings  of  the  words,  thus  have  these  been  ihe 


50  HISTORY   OF 

gradations  of  aristocracy,  the  various  states  through  which  i» 
has  had  to  pass. 

And,  indeed,  for  an  aristocracy  to  be  real,  for  it  to  merit 
its  name,  it  must  possess,  and  possess  of  itself,  one  or  the 
other  of  these  characteristics ;  it  must  have  either  a  force  of 
its  own,  a  force  which  it  borrows  from  no  one,  and  which 
none  can  wrest  from  it,  or  a  force  admitted,  proclaimed  by  the 
men  over  whom  it  exercises  this  force.  It  must  have  either 
independence  or  popularity.  It  must  either  have  power,  in 
its  mere  personal  right,  as  was  the  case  with  the  feudal  aris- 
tocracy, or  it  must  receive  power  by  national  and  free  elec- 
tion, as  is  the  case  in  representative  governments.  Nothing 
resembling  either  of  these  characteristics  is  to  be  met  with  in 
the  senatorial  aristocracy  of  Gaul ;  it  possessed  neither  inde- 
Dendence  nor  popularity.  Power,  wealth,  privilege,  all  it  had 
and  exercised,  was  borrowed  and  precarious.  Undoubtedly 
the  senatorial  families  occupied  a  position  in  society  and  in 
the  eyes  of  the  people,  for  they  were  rich,  and  had  filled  pub- 
lic offices ;  but  they  were  incapable  of  any  great  effort,  in- 
capable of  carrying  the  people  with  them,  or  using  them  either 
to  defend  or  to  govern  the  country. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  second  class,  the  curiales,  and  ex- 
amine what  the  real  extent  of  their  strength  was.  Judging 
from  appearances,  these  had  something  beyond  what  the  pre- 
ceding class  possessed ;  among  them,  the  presence  of  princi- 
ples of  liberty  is  evident.  I  have  already  endeavored  to  ex- 
plain these  in  the  following  manner,  in  my  Essai  sur  le  regime 
Municipal  Romain  au  V.  Siecle  : 

1.  Every  inhabitant  of  a  town,  possessor  of  a  fortune  suffi- 
cient to  secure  his  independence  and  the  development  of  his 
understanding,  is  a  curialis,  and  as  such  called  upon  to  take 
part  in  the  administration  of  civic  affairs. 

The  right  of  curialship,  then,  is  attached  to  the  presumed 
capacity  of  filling  it,  and  not  to  any  privilege  of  birth,  and 
without  any  limit  as  to  numbers ;  and  this  right  is  not  a  mere 
right  of  election,  but  a  right  to  deliberate  upon  and  to  partici- 
pate directly  in  the  administration  of  affairs,  a  right  to  discuss 
matters  and  interests,  the  comprehension  of  which,  and  the 
ability  to  discuss  which,  it  may  reasonably  be  supposed  that 
all  persons  above  the  very  lowest  in  the  scale  of  existence 
possess.  The  curia  is  not  a  limited  and  select  town  council, 
but  an  assembly  of  all  such  inhabitants  as  come  within  the 
curial  qualification. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  51 

2.  An  assembly  cannot  act  administratively ;  there  must 
oe  magistrates  to  do  this.  Such  magistrates  are  all  elected 
by  the  curia,  for  a  very  limited  period,  and  are  responsible 
with  their  fortunes  for  the  integrity  of  their  administration. 

3.  In  great  emergencies,  when  the  fate  of  a  city  is  in  ques- 
tion, or  when  it  is  proposed  to  elect  a  magistrate  invested  with 
uncertain  and  more  arbitrary  powers,  the  curia  itself  does  not 
suffice  ;  the  whole  population  is  summoned  to  concur  in  these 
solemn  acts. 

Who,  at  the  aspect  of  such  rights  existing,  would  not  ima- 
gine he  recognized  a  petty  republic,  in  which  the  municipal 
life  and  the  political  life  were  mixed  up  and  confounded  to- 
gether, in  which  democracy  of  the  most  unequivocal  descrip- 
tion prevailed  ?  Who  would  imagine,  for  one  instant,  that  a 
town  so  governed  formed  part  of  a  great  empire,  and  was 
connected  by  strict  and  necessary  bonds  with  a  distant  and 
sovereign  central  power  ?  Who  would  not  expect  to  find  here 
all  the  impulsive  manifestations  of  liberty,  all  the  agitation, 
all  the  faction  and  cabal,  all  the  violence,  all  the  disorder, 
which  invariably  characterize  small  societies,  inclosed  and 
self-governed  within  their  own  walls  ? 

Nothing  of  the  sort  was  the  fact ;  all  these  apparent  prin- 
ciples were  without  life,  and  there  were  others  existent,  which 
absolutely  precluded  their  reanimation. 

1.  Such  are  the  effects,  such  the  exigencies  of  the  central 
despotism,  that  the  quality  of  curialis  becomes  not  a  right 
recognized  in  all  those  who  are  capable  of  exercising  it,  but  a 
burden  imposed  upon  all  who  are  capable  of  bearing  it.  On 
the  one  hand  the  central  government  has  relieved  itself  of  the 
duty  of  providing  for  any  branch  of  the  public  service  in 
which  it  is  not  immediately  interested,  throwing  this  duty 
upon  the  class  of  citizens  in  question ;  on  the  other  hand,  it 
employs  this  class  of  citizens  in  collecting  the  taxes  which  it 
imposes  on  its  own  peculiar  account,  and  makes  them  respon- 
sible for  the  full  amount.  It  ruins  the  curiales,  in  order  to 
pay  its  functionaries  and  its  soldiers  ;  it  grants  its  functiona- 
ries and  its  soldiers  all  sorts  of  practical  advantages  and  privi- 
leges, as  inducements  to  them  to  aid  it  in  preventing  the 
curiales  from  saving  themselves  from  ruin.  Completely  null 
as  citizens,  the  curiales  only  live  to  be  stripped  of  all  they 
gain  as  men  of  labor  and  industry. 

2.  The  magistrates  elected  by  the  curia  are,  in  point  of 
fact,  merely  the  imperial  agents   of  despotism,  for  whoso 


52  HISTORY   OF 

benefit  they  despoil  their  fellow-citizens,  until  some  oppxrtu 
nity  or  other  occurs  to.  them  of  getting  riJ  of  this  hard  obli. 
gation. 

3.  Their  election  itself  is  valueless,  for  the  imperial  repre. 
sentative  in  the  province  may  annul  it;  a  favor  which  they 
have  the  greatest  desire  to  obtain  at  his  hands ;  another  cir- 
cumstance putting  them  more  firmly  in  his  power. 

4.  Their  authority  is  not  real,  for  they  cannot  enforce  it. 
No  effective  jurisdiction  is  placed  in  their  hands  ;  they  take 
no  step  which  may  not  be  annulled.  Nay,  more :  despotism, 
perceiving  more  and  more  clearly  their  ill-will  to  the  task,  or 
their  inability  to  execute  it,  encroaches  more  and  more,  by 
itself  or  its  immediate  representatives,  into  the  sphere  of  their 
functions.  The  business  of  the  curia  gradually  disappears 
with  its  powers,  and  a  day  will  come  when  the  municipal 
system  may  be  abolished  at  a  single  blow,  in  the  still  subsist- 
ing empire,  "  because,"  as  the  legislator  will  say,  "  all  these 
laws  wander,  as  it  were,  vainly  and  without  object  around 
the  legal  soil."1 

Thus,  then,  it  is  seen,  force,  real  life,  were  equally  wanting 
to  the  curiales,  as  to  the  senatorial  families  ;  equally  with 
the  senatorial  families,  they  were  incapable  of  defending  or 
of  governing  the  society. 

As  to  the  people,  I  need  not  dwell  upon  their  situation  ;  it 
is  obvious  that  they  were  in  no  condition  to  save  and  regene- 
rate the  Roman  world.  Yet  we  must  not  think  them  alto- 
gether so  powerless,  so  utterly  null,  as  is  ordinarily  supposed. 
They  were  tolerably  numerous,  more  especially  in  the  south 
of  Gaul,  both  from  the.  development  of  industrial  activity 
during  the  first  three  ages  of  Christianity,  and  from  the  cir- 
cumstance of  a  portion  of  the  rural  population  taking  refuge 
in  the  towns  from  the  devastation  of  the  barbarians.  Besides, 
with  the  progress  of  disorder  in  the  higher  ranks,  the  popular 
influence  had  a  tendency  to  increase.  In  times  of  regularity, 
when  the  administration,  its  functionaries,  and  its  troops  were 
on  the  spot,  ere  the  curia  had  become  altogether  ruined  and 
powerless,  the  people  remained  in  their  ordinary  state  of  in- 
action, or  passive  dependence.  But  when  all  the  various 
masters  of  the  society  had  fallen  away  or  disappeared,  when 
the  dissolution  of  things  became  general,  the  people,  in  their 


i  Nov.  46,  rendered  by  the  Emperor  of  the  East,  Leo  the  Philoso- 
pher, towards  the  close  of  the  ninth  century 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  53 

turn,  grew  to  be  something,  and  assumed,  at  all  events,  a 
certain  degree  of  activity  and  importance. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  about  the  slaves  ;  they  were  nothing 
for  themselves ;  how,  then,  could  they  do  anything  for 
society  ?  It  was,  moreover,  the  coloni  who  underwent  well 
nigh  all  the  disasters  of  invasion ;  it  was  they  whom  the  bar- 
barians  pillaged,  hunted,  carried  away  captive,  pell-mell  with 
their  cattle.  I  may  remark,  however,  incidentally,  that  under 
the  Empire  the  condition  of  the  slaves  was  great'.y  improved  ; 
this  is  clear  from  its  legislation. 

Let  us  now  collect  all  these  scattered  features  of  Gaulish 
civil  society  in  the  fifth  century,  and  form  a  collective  idea, 
as  near  the  fact  as  we  can,  of  its  aggregate. 

Its  government  was  monarchical,  even  despotic ;  and  yet 
all  the  monarchical  institutions  and  powers  were  falling,  were 
themselves  abandoning  their  post.  Its  internal  organization 
seemed  aristocratic;  but  it  was  an  aristocracy  without  strength, 
without  coherence,  incapable  of  playing  a  public  part.  A 
democratic  element,  municipalities,  free  burghers,  were  still 
visible  ;  but  democracy  was  as  enervated,  as  powerless,  as 
aristocracy  and  monarchy.  The  whole  of  society  was  in  a 
state  of  dissolution,  was  dying. 

And  here  we  see  the  radical  vice  of  the  Roman  society, 
and  of  every  society  where  slavery  exists  on  a  large  scale, 
where  a  few  masters  rule  over  whole  herds  of  people.  In  all 
countries,  at  all  times,  whatever  the  political  system  which 
prevails,  after  an  interval  more  or  less  long,  by  the  sole  effect 
of  the  enjoyment  of  power,  of  wealth,  of  the  intellectual  de- 
velopment, of  the  various  social  advantages  they  enjoy,  the 
higher  classes  wear  themselves  out,  become  enervated,  unless 
they  are  constantly  excited  by  emulation,  and  refreshed  by 
the  immigration  of  the  classes  who  live  and  labor  below  them. 
See  what  has  taken  place  in  modern  Europe.  There  has 
been  in  it  a  prodigious  variety  of  social  conditions,  infinite 
gradations  in  wealth,  liberty,  enlightenment,  influence,  civili- 
zation. And  up  all  the  steps  of  this  long  ladder,  an  ascend- 
ing movement  has  constantly  impelled  each  class  and  all 
classes,  the  one  by  the  other,  towards  greater  development, 
to  which  none  was  allowed  to  remain  a  stranger.  Hence  the 
fecundity,  the  immorality,  so  to  speak,  of  modern  civilization, 
thus  incessantly  recruited  and  renewed. 

Nothing  at  all  resembling  this  existed  in  the  Roman 
society  ;  there,  men  were  divided  off  into  two  great  classes, 


54  HISTORY    OF 

separated  from  each  other  by  an  itnmense  interval ;  there 
was  no  variety,  no  ascending  movement,  no  genuine  demo- 
cracy ;  it  was,  as  it  were,  a  society  of  officers,  who  did  not 
know  whence  to  recruit  their  numbers,  and  did  not,  in  point 
of  fact,  recruit  them.  There  was,  indeed,  from  the  first  to 
the  third  century,  as  I  have  just  now  said,  a  progressive 
movement  on  the  part  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  people  ;  they 
increased  in  liberty,  in  number,  in  activity.  But  the  move- 
ment was  far  too  slow,  far  too  limited,  to  enable  the  people  by 
reintegrating  in  time  the  superior  classes,  to  save  them  from 
their  decline  and  fall. 

Besides  these,  there  became  formed  another  society,  young, 
energetic,  fruitful  of  results, — the  ecclesiastical  society.  It 
was  around  this  society  that  the  people  rallied  ;  no  powerful 
bond  united  them  to  the  senators,  nor,  perhaps,  to  the  curiales ; 
they  assembled,  therefore,  around  the  priests  and  bishops. 
Alien  to  pagan  civil  society,  whose  chiefs  created  therein  no 
place  for  it,  the  mass  of  the  population  entered  with  ardor 
into  the  Christian  society,  whose  leaders  opened  their  arms  to 
it.  The  senatorial  and  curial  aristocracy  was  a  mere  phan- 
tom ;  the  clergy  became  the  real  aristocracy  ;  there  was  no 
Roman  people ;  a  Christian  people  arose.  It  is  with  them 
we  shall  occupy  ourselves  in  the  next  lecture 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  56 


THIRD  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Variety  of  the  principles  and  forms  of  religious 
society  in  Europe — Classification  of  the  different  systems,  1.  Ac- 
cording to  the  relations  of  the  church  in  the  state ;  2.  According  to 
the  internal  constitution  of  the  church — All  these  systems  assign 
their  origin  to  the  primitive  church — Critical  examination  of  these 
pretensions — They  have  all  a  certain  degree  of  foundation — Fluctu- 
ation and  complexity  of  the  external  situation  and  internal  position 
of  Christian  society  from  the  first  to  the  fifth  century — Predominant 
tendencies — Prevalent  facts  of  the  fifth  century — Causes  of  libertv 
in  the  church  at  this  period — The  election  of  bishops — Councils- 
Comparison  of  religious  with  civil  society — Of  the  chiefs  of  these 
two  societies — Letters  of  Sidonius  Apollinaris. 

The  subject  which  is  now  about  to  occupy  our  attention,  is 
the  state  of  religious  society  in  the  fifth  century.  I  need  not 
remind  you  of  the  great  part  it  has  played  in  the  history  of 
modern  civilization:  that  is  a  fact  perfectly  well  understood. 
Nor  is  it  in  modern  history  that  this  fact  first  manifested 
itself;  the  world  has  seen  more  than  one  striking  example  of 
the  power  of  the  religious  society,  of  its  ideas,  its  institutions, 
its  government.  But  there  is  a  fundamental  difference  to  be 
remarked.  In  Asia,  in  Africa,  in  antiquity,  everywhere 
before  the  organization  of  Europe,  religious  society  presents 
itself  under  a  general  and  simple  form  ;  this  is  the  clear  pre- 
valence of  a  system,  the  domination  of  a  principle  :  sometimes 
the  society  is  subordinate ;  it  is  the  temporal  power  which 
exercises  the  spiritual  functions  and  directs  the  worship,  and 
even  the  faith  :  sometimes  it  occupies  the  chief  place  ;  it  is 
the  spiritual  power  which  rules  the  civil  order.  In  both  the 
one  case  and  the  other,  the  position  and  organization  of  the 
religious  society  are  clear,  simple,  stable.  In  modern  Europe, 
on  the  contrary,  it  presents  every  possible  variety  of  system  ; 
we  find  in  it  every  possible  principle ;  it  seems  made  up  of 
samples  of  all  the  forms  under  which  it  has  appeared  else- 
where. 

Let  us  endeavor,  for  the  sake  of  greater  perspicuity,  to 
disintricate  and  classify  the  different  principles,  the  different 
Bystems  which  have  been,  in  various  measure,  adopted  into 


50  HISTORY    OF 

European  religious  society,  the  different  constitutions  i  has 
received. 

Two  great  questions  here  present  themselves  :  on  the  one 
hand,  the  exterior  situation  of  the  religious  society,  its  position 
with  reference  to  civil  society,  the  relations,  that  is  to  say,  of 
church  with  state ;  and  on  the  other,  its  interior  organization, 
its  internal  government. 

With  both  the  one  and  the  other  of  these  questions,  we  must 
connect  the  modifications  of  which  religious  society  has  been 
the  object  in  the  particular  respect. 

I  will  first  consider  its  external  situation,  its  relations  with 
the  state. 

Four  systems,  essentially  differing  from  one  another,  have 
been  maintained  on  this  subject. 

1.  The  state  is  subordinate  to  the  church  ;  in  the  moral 
point  of  view,  in  the  chronological  order  itself,  the  church  pre 
cedes  the  state ;  the  church  is  the  first  society,  superior,  eter- 
nal ;  civil  society  is  nothing  more  than  the  consequence,  than 
an  application  of  its  principles  ;  it  is  to  the  spiritual  power 
that  sovereignty  belongs  of  right ;  the  temporal  power  should 
merely  act  as  its  instrument. 

2.  It  is  not  the  state  which  is  in  the  church,  but  the  church 
which  is  in  the  state :  it  is  the  state  which  rules  the  land, 
which  makes  war,  levies  taxes,  governs  the  external  destiny 
of  the  citizens.  It  is  for  the  state  to  give  to  the  religious 
society  the  form  and  constitution  which  best  accord  with  the 
interests  of  general  society.  Whenever  creeds  cease  to  be 
individual,  whenever  they  give  birth  to  associations,  these 
come  within  the  cognizance  and  authority  of  the  temporal 
power,  the  only  veritable  power  in  a  state. 

3.  The  church  ought  to  be  independent,  unnoticed  in  the 
state ;  the  state  has  nothing  to  do  with  her ;  the  temporal 
power  ought  to  take  no  cognizance  of  religious  creeds  ;  it 
should  let  them  approximate  or  separate,  let  them  go  on  and 
govern  themselves  as  they  think  best ;  it  has  no  right,  no 
occasion,  to  interfere  in  their  affairs. 

4.  The  church  and  the  state  are  distinct  societies,  it  is 
true  ;  but  they  are  at  the  same  time  close  neighbors,  and 
are  nearly  interested  in  one  another :  let  them  live  separate, 
but  not  estranged  ;  let  them  keep  up  an  alliance  on  certain 
conditions,  each  living  to  itself,  but  each  making  sacrifices 
for  the  other,  in  case  of  need,  each  lending  the  other  is 
support. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  57 

In  the  internal  organization  of  the  religious  society,  the 
diversity  of  principles  and  forms  is  even  still  greater. 

And  first,  we  see  before  us  two  leading  systems  :  in  the  one, 
power  is  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy  ;  the  priests 
alone  form  a  constituted  body ;  the  ecclesiastical  society 
governs  the  religious  society :  in  the  other,  the  religious  soci- 
ety governs  itself,  or  at  least  participates  in  the  administration 
of  its  affairs  ;  the  social  organization  comprehends  the  body 
of  the  faithful,  as  well  as  the  priests. 

Government  in  the  hands  of  the  ecclesiastical  society  solely 
may  be  constituted  in  various  ways.  1.  Under  the  form  of 
pure  monarchy ;  there  are  several  examples  of  this  in  the 
history  of  the  world.  2.  Under  the  form  of  an  aristocracy  ; 
where  the  bishops,  for  instance,  each  in  his  own  diocese,  or 
in  a  collective  assembly,  govern  the  church  in  their  own  right, 
without  the  concurrence  of  the  inferior  clergy.  3.  Under  a 
democratic  form,  where,  for  instance,  the  government  of  the 
church  belongs  to  the  whole  body  of  the  clergy,  to  assemblies 
of  priests  all  equal  among  themselves. 

In  cases  where  the  society  governs  itself,  the  diversity  of 
forms  is  equally  great.  1.  The  body  of  the  faithful,  the 
laity,  sit  with  the  priests  in  the  assemblies  charged  with  the 
general  government  of  the  church.  2.  There  is  no  general 
government  of  the  church  ;  each  congregation  forms  a  several 
local,  independent  church,  which  governs  itself;  whose  mem- 
bers  select  their  own  spiritual  chief,  according  to  their  parti- 
cular views  and  purposes.  3.  There  is  no  distinct  and 
permanent  spiritual  government  at  all ;  no  clergy,  no  priests  ; 
teaching,  preaching,  all  the  spiritual  functions  are  exercised 
by  the  body  of  the  faithful  themselves,  according  to  circum- 
stances, according  to  inspiration ;  there  is  constant  change, 
constant  agitation. 

I  might  combine  in  an  infinity  of  ways  these  various  forms, 
mixing  their  elements  together  in  various  proportions,  and 
thus  create  a  host  of  other  diversified  forms,  but  with  my 
utmost  ingenuity  I  could  devise  no  combination  which  has 
not  already  been  exhibited  to  the  world. 

And  not  only  have  all  these  principles  been  professed,  not 
only  have  all  these  systems  been  maintained  each  as  the  only 
true  and  legitimate  system,  but  all  of  them  have  been  brought 
.nto  practical  operation,  all  of  them  have  existed. 

Every  one  knows  that  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centu. 
ries  the  spiritual  power  claimed   as  its  right,  sometimes  the 


58  HISTORY    OF 

direct  exercise,  sometimes  the  indirect  nomination  of  the  tem 
poral  power.  Every  one  sees  that  in  England,  where  Parlia- 
ment has  disposed  of  the  faith  as  of  the  crown  of  the  country, 
the  church  is  subordinate  to  the  state.  What  are  popery, 
Erastianism,1  episcopacy,  presbyterianism,  the  independents, 
the  quakers,  but  applications  of  the  doctrines  I  have  pointed 
out  ?  All  doctrines  have  become  facts :  there  are  examples 
vf  all  systems,  and  of  all  the  so  varied  combinations  of  sys- 
tems. And  not  only  have  all  systems  been  realized,  but  they 
have,  every  one  of  them,  set  up  a  claim  to  historical  as  well 
as  to  rational  legitimacy  ;  they  have,  every  one  of  them,  re- 
ferred their  origin  to  the  earliest  age  of  the  Christian  church  ; 
they  have,  every  one  of  them,  claimed  ancient  facts  for  their 
own,  as  their  own  peculiar  foundation  and  justification. 

Nor  are  they  wholly  wrong  any  of  them ;  we  find  in  the 
first  ages  of  the  age,  facts  with  which  all  of  them  are  entitled 
to  claim  a  connexion.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  they  are  all 
alike  true,  rationally,  all  alike  authentic,  historically,  nor  that 
they  all  represent  a  series  of  different  facts,  through  which 
the  church  has  necessarily  passed.  What  I  mean  is  simply, 
that  there  is  in  each  of  these  systems  a  greater  or  less  pro- 
portion of  moral  truth  and  of  historical  reality.  They  have 
all  played  a  part,  have  occupied  a  place,  in  the  history  of 
modern  religious  history :  they  have  all,  in  various  measure, 
contributed  to  the  work  of  its  formation. 

I  will  view  them  successively  in  the  first  ages  of  the  church ; 
we  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  tracing  them  there. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  external  situation  of  the  church, 
and  its  relations  with  civil  society. 

As  to  the  system  of  a  church,  independent,  unnoticed  in 
the  state,  existing  and  governing  itself  without  the  interven- 
tion of  the  temporal  power,  this  is  evidently  the  primitive 
situation  of  the  Christian  church.  So  long  as  it  was  con- 
fined within  a  limited  space,  or  disseminated  only  in  small 
and  isolated  congregations,  the  Roman  government  took  no 
notice  of  it,  and  allowed  it  to  exist  and  regulate  its  affairs  as 
it  thought  proper. 

This  state  of  things  terminated :  the  Roman  empire  took 
cognizance  of  the  Christian  society ;  I  do  not  refer  to  the 


1  The  system  in  which  the  church  is  governed  by  the  state,  so 
named  from  Erastus,  a  German  theologian  and  physician  of  the  16th 
century,  who  first  maintained  this  principle  with  any  distinguished 
effect 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  59 

peiiod  when  it  took  notice  of  it  in  the  way  of  persecution,  but 
to  that  when  the  Roman  world  became  Christian,  when 
Christianity  ascended  the  throne  with  Constantine.  The  po- 
sition of  the  church  with  reference  to  the  state  underwent 
a  great  change  at  this  epoch.  It  were  incorrect  to  say  that 
it  fell  at  this  period  under  the  government  of  the  church, 
that  the  system  of  its  subordination  to  power  then  came  into 
operation.  In  general,  the  emperors  did  not  pretend  to  regu- 
late the  faith ;  they  took  the  doctrines  of  the  church  as  they 
found  them.  The  majority  of  the  questions  which,  at  a  later 
period,  excited  the  rivalship  of  the  two  powers,  had  not  as  yet 
arisen.  Still,  even  at  this  period,  we  meet  with  a  great 
number  of  facts  wherein  the  system  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 
state  over  the  church  might  have  sought,  and  has,  indeed, 
sought  its  origin.  Towards  the  close  of  the  third  and  the 
commencement  of  the  fourth  century,  for  instance,  the  bishops 
observed  an  extremely  humble  and  submissive  tone  with  the 
emperors ;  they  were  incessantly  exalting  the  imperial  ma- 
jesty. Doubtless,  had  it  attempted  to  assail  the  independence 
of  their  faith,  they  would  have  defended  themselves,  as,  in 
point  of  fact,  they  often  did  defend  themselves,  with  energy ; 
but  they  were  greatly  in  need  of  the  emperors'  protection  so 
recently  extended  to  them.  But  just  recognized  and  adopted 
by  the  temporal  power,  they  were  anxious  to  treat  it  with  the 
utmost  respect  and  consideration.  Besides,  they  could  do 
nothing  of  themselves ;  the  religious  society,  or  rather  its 
government,  had  at  this  epoch  no  means  of  carrying  its  will 
into  execution ;  it  had  no  institutions,  no  rules,  no  system  ;  it 
was  constantly  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  intervention  of 
the  civil  government,  the  ancient  and  only  organized  authority. 
This  continual  necessity  for  a  foreign  sanction  gave  religious 
society  an  air  of  subordination  and  dependence,  more  apparent 
than  real ;  at  bottom,  its  independence  and  even  its  power 
were  considerable,  but  still,  in  almost  all  its  affairs,  in  all 
matters  affecting  the  interest  of  the  church,  the  emperor  in- 
terfered ;  his  consent  and  approbation  were  invariably  solicited. 
The  councils  were  generally  assembled  by  his  order ;  and 
not  only  did  he  convene  them,  but  he  presided  over  them, 
either  in  person  or  by  deputy,  and  decided  what  subjects 
should  be  discussed  by  them.  Thus  Constantine  was  present 
in  person  at  the  council  of  Aries,  in  314,  and  at  the  council 
of  Nicea,  in  325,  and,  apparently  at  least,  superintended  the 
deliberations.     I  say  apparently ;  for  the  mere  presence  of 


60  HISTORY    OF 

the  emperor  at  a  council  was  a  triumph  for  the  church,  a 
proof  of  victory  far  more  than  of  subjection.  But  however 
this  may  have  been,  the  forms,  at  all  events,  were  those  of 
respectful  subordination ;  the  church  availed  herself  of  the 
power  of  the  Empire,  covered  herself  with  its  majesty ;  and 
Erastianism,  independently  of  the  national  grounds  upon 
which  it  proceeds,  has  found,  in  the  history  of  this  epoch, 
facts  which  have  served  as  its  justification. 

As  to  the  opposite  system,  the  general  and  absolute  sove- 
reignty  of  the  church,  it  is  clear  that  it  cannot  be  met  with  in 
the  cradle  of  a  religious  society  ;  it  necessarily  belongs  to  the 
period  of  its  greatest  power,  of  its  fullest  development.  Yet 
one  may  already  detect  glimpses  of  it,  and  very  distinct 
glimpses,  in  the  fifth  century.  The  superiority  of  spiritual 
over  temporal  interests,  of  the  destiny  of  the  believer  as  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  mere  citizen,  the  principle  enunciated 
by  the  religious  society,  was  already  recognized  and  admitted 
by  the  civil  society. 

We  accordingly  find  the  language  of  the  heads  of  the  spi- 
ritual society,  erewhile  so  gentle,  so  reserved,  so  modest,  now 
becoming  confident,  bold,  often  even  haughty  ;  whilst,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  of  the  chiefs  of  the  civil  society,  of  the  supe- 
riors themselves,  despite  the  pomp  still  clinging  round  it3 
forms,  is  in  reality  mild  and  submissive.  At  this  period,  in- 
deed, the  whole  framework  of  temporal  power  was  in  a  state 
of  rapid  decay ;  the  Empire  was  expiring  ;  the  imperial 
power  was  day  by  day  more  and  more  nearly  approaching 
the  condition  of  an  utter,  of  a  ridiculous  nonentity.  The 
spiritual  power,  on  the  contrary,  grew  stronger  and  stronger, 
and  penetrated  more  deeply  and  widely  into  civil  society ;  the 
church  became  more  wealthy,  her  jurisdiction  more  extended  ; 
she  was  visibly  progressing  towards  domination.  The  com- 
plete fall  of  the  Empire  in  the  west,  and  the  rise  of  the  bar- 
barous monarchies,  contributed  greatly  to  the  exaltation  of 
her  pretensions  and  of  her  power.  The  church  had  long  been 
under  the  emperors,  obscure,  feeble,  a  mere  child,  so  to  speak  ; 
she  had  thence  acquired  a  sort  of  reserve  in  her  intercourse 
with  them ;  a  habit  of  respect  for  their  ancient  power,  their 
name ;  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  had  the  Empire  continued 
to  exist,  the  church  would  never  have  completely  emanci- 
pated herself  from  this  custom  of  her  youth.  What  corrobo- 
rates this  supposition  is  the  fact  that  such  has  been  the  case  in 
the  eastern  Empire ;  that  Empire  lived  on  fc  r  twelve  centu 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  61 

ries  id  a  state  of  gradual  decay ;  the  imperial  power  became 
little  more  than  nominal.  Yet  the  church  there  never  attained, 
never  even  sought  to  attain  the  sovereignty.  The  Greek 
church  remained,  with  the  eastern  emperors,  in  nearly  the 
same  relation  in  which  the  Romish  church  stood  with  the 
Roman  emperors.  In  the  west,  the  Empire  fell ;  kings  co- 
vered with  furs  took  the  place  of  princes  clothed  in  purple  ; 
the  church  yielded  not  to  these  new  comers  the  same  conside- 
ration, the  same  respect  which  she  had  paid  to  their  predeces- 
sors. Moreover,  to  contend  successfully  against  their  barba- 
rism, she  found  herself  under  the  necessity  of  stretching  to 
its  utmost  bent  the  spring  of  spiritual  power :  the  exaltation 
of  popular  feeling  in  this  direction,  was  her  means  of  safety 
and  of  action.  Hence  the  so  rapid  progress  now  of  those 
pretensions  of  hers  to  the  sovereignty,  which  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury were  scarce  perceptible. 

As  to  the  system  of  alliance  between  the  two  distinct  and 
independent  societies,  it  is  not  difficult  to  recognize  it  at  this 
period  ;  there  was  nothing  precise  or  fixed  in  the  conditions 
of  the  alliance ;  the  two  powers  never  continued  long  upon 
equal  terms  under  them ;  they  kept  each  in  its  owa  sphere, 
and  treated  together  whenever  they  happened  to  come  in  con- 
tact. 

We  find,  then,  from  the  first  to  the  fifth  century,  in  germ 
and  in  development,  all  the  systems  according  to  which  the 
relations  between  church  and  state  may  be  regulated ;  they 
all  of  them  derive  their  origin  from  facts  dating  from  the  cradle 
of  religious  society.  Let  us  pass  on  to  the  interior  organiza- 
tion of  this  society,  to  the  internal  government  of  the  church ; 
we  shall  arrive  at  the  same  result. 

It  is  clear  that  this  last  form  cannot  be  that  of  an  infant 
church  ;  no  moral  association  begins  with  the  inertia  of  the 
mass  of  those  associated,  with  the  separation  of  the  people  and 
the  government.  It  is  certain,  accordingly,  that  at  the  out- 
set of  Christianity,  the  body  of  the  faithful  participated  in  the 
administration  of  the  affairs  of  the  society.  The  presbyterian 
jystem,  that  is  to  say,  the  government  of  the  church  by  its 
spiritual  chiefs,  assisted  by  the  leading  members  of  the  body, 
was  the  primitive  system.  There  may  be  many  questions 
raised  as  to  the  titles,  functions,  and  mutual  relations  of  these 
lay  and  ecclesiastical  chiefs  of  the  rising  congregations ;  but 
as  to  the  fact  of  their  concurrence  in  the  regulation  of  th©»r 
common  affairs,  there  can  be  no  doubt. 


•2  HISTORY    OF 

Equally  unquestionable  Is  it  that  at  this  period  the  separate 
societies,  the  Christian  congregations  in  each  town,  were  far 
more  independent  of  each  other  than  they  have  been  at  any 
subsequent  time ;  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  governed 
themselves,  perhaps  not  completely,  but  almost  so,  each  for 
itself,  and  apart  from  the  rest.  Hence  the  system  of  the 
Independents,  who  insist  that  the  religious  society  should 
have  no  general  government,  but  that  each  local  congrega- 
tion should  be  an  entire  and  sovereign  society  in  itself. 

No  doubt,  again,  that  in  these  petty  Christian  societies  of 
early  date,  unconnected  with  one  another,  and  often  without 
the  means  of  preaching  and  teaching,  no  doubt  that  in  the 
absence  of  a  spiritual  leader  instituted  by  the  original  founder 
of  ti.e  faith,  it  often  occurred  that,  under  the  influence  of  an 
inward  impulse,  some  individual  member  of  the  body,  of 
strong  mind,  and  endowed  with  the  gift  of  acting  upon  his 
fellows,  ai'ose  and  preached  the  word  to  the  association  to 
which  he  belonged.  Hence  the  system  of  the  Quakers,  the 
system  of  spontaneous  individual  preaching,  without  any 
order  of  priests,  of  regular  and  permanent  clergy. 

These  are  some  of  the  principles,  some  of  the  forms  of  the 
religious  societies  in  the  first  age  of  the  Christian  church 
It  comprehended  many  others ;  perhaps,  indeed,  those  whicl" 
I  have  mentioned  were  not  the  most  powerful  in  their  in- 
fluence. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  incontestable  that  the  first  founders, 
or,  more  correctly  speaking,  the  first  instruments  in  the  foun- 
dation of  Christianity,  the  apostles,  regarded  themselves  as 
invested  with  a  special  mission  received  from  on  high,  and 
that  they  in  turn  transmitted  to  their  disciples  by  the  laying 
on  of  hands,  or  in  some  other  form,  the  right  to  teach  and 
;o  preach.  Ordination  is  a  primitive  fact  in  the  Christian 
church ;  hence  an  order  of  priests,  a  distinct  permanent  clergy, 
invested  with  peculiar  functions,  duties,  and  rights. 

Let  us  turn  to  another  primitive  fact.  The  particular  con- 
gregations were,  it  is  true,  isolated  ;  but  the  tendency  of  them 
all  was  to  unite,  to  live  under  one  common  discipline  as 
under  one  common  faith  ;  it  was  the  tendency,  the  aim, 
natural  to  every  society  in  progress  of  self-formation ;  it  is 
the  necessary  condition  of  its  extension,  of  its  firm  establish- 
ment. 

Approximation,  assimilation  of  the  various  elements,  move- 
ment towards  unity,  such  is  the  regular  course  cf  creation. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  63 

The  first  propagators  of  Christianity,  the  apostles  or  theii 
disciples,  preserved,  moreover,  over  the  most  distant  congre- 
gations a  certain  amount  of  authority,  a  remote  but  effica- 
cious superintendence.  They  took  care  to  form  and  to  main- 
tain ties  not  only  of  moral  brotherhood,  but  of  organizations 
between  the  particular  churches.  Hence  a  constant  tendency 
toward  a  general  government  of  the  churches,  an  identical 
and  permanent  constitution. 

It  appears  to  me  perfectly  clear  that  in  the  minds  of  the 
first  Christians,  in  their  common  and  simple  feeling,  the 
apostles  were  regarded  as  superior  to  their  disciples,  and  tne 
immediate  disciples  of  the  apostles  as  superior  to  their  suc- 
cessors ;  a  superiority  purely  moral,  not  established  as  an 
institution,  but  real  and  admitted.  In  it  we  have  the  first 
germ,  the  religious  germ  of  the  episcopal  system.  That 
system  derives  also  from  another  source.  The  towns  into 
which  Christianity  had  made  its  way,  were  very  unequal  in 
population,  in  wealth,  in  importance ;  and  the  inequality  in 
intellectual  development,  in  moral  power,  was  as  great  as 
the  material  inequality.  There  was,  consequently,  an  ine- 
quality likewise  in  the  distribution  of  influence  among  the 
spiritual  heads  of  the  congregations.  The  chiefs  of  the 
more  important,  of  the  more  enlightened  towns,  naturally 
took  the  lead  and  exercised  an  authority,  at  first  moral,  then 
institutional,  over  the  minor  congregations  within  a  certain 
circle  around  them.  This  was  the  political  germ  of  the 
episcopal  system. 

Thus,  at  the  same  time  that  we  recognize  in  the  primitive 
state  of  the  religious  society  the  association  of  lay-members 
with  the  priests  in  the  government,  that  is  to  say,  the  Presby- 
terian system ;  the  isolation  of  the  particular  congregations, 
that  is  to  say,  the  system  of  the  Independents  ;  free,  sponta- 
neous, casual  preaching,  that  is  to  say,  the  system  of  the 
Quakers :  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  rising  up  in  opposition  to 
the  system  of  the  Quakers,  an  order  of  priests,  a  permanent 
clergy ;  in  opposition  to  the  system  of  the  Independents,  a 
general  government  of  the  church  ;  in  opposition  to  the  Pres- 
byterian system,  the  principle  of  inequality  among  the  priests 
themselves,  the  Episcopal  system. 

How  have  these  principles,  so  various,  so  contrary  to  each 
other,  become  developed  ?  To  what  causes  have  been  owing 
he  abasement  of  one,  the  elevation  of  another  1  And,  first, 
how  was  the  transition  from  a  government,  shared  by  the  body 


04  HISTORY    OF 

of  the  faithful,  to  a  government  vested  in  the  clergy  alone,  ac 
complished  ?  By  what  progress  did  the  religious  society  pass 
under  the  empire  of  the  ecclesiastical  society  1 

In  the  revolution  by  which  this  change  was  effected,  the 
ambition  of  the  clergy,  personal  interests,  human  passions,  had 
a  large  share.  I  do  not  seek  to  under-estimate  its  proportion. 
It  is  quite  undeniable  that  all  these  causes  contributed  to  the 
result  which  now  occupies  our  attention  ;  but  yet,  had  there 
been  only  these  causes  at  work,  the  result  would  never  have 
been  realized.  I  have  already  observed,  and  it  is  a  remark  1 
repeat  on  all  available  occasions,  that  no  great  event  is  accom- 
plished by  causes  altogether  illegitimate.  Beneath  these,  or  at 
their  side,  there  are  always  legitimate  causes  in  operation, 
good  and  sound  reasons  why  an  important  fact  should  be  ac- 
complished.    We  have  here  a  fresh  example  of  this. 

It  is,  I  believe,  a  clear  principle — a  principle  generally 
established — that  participation  in  power  presupposes  the  moral 
capacity  to  exercise  it ;  where  the  capacity  is  wanting,  par- 
ticipation in  power  comes  to  an  end,  as  a  matter  of  course  .N 
The  right  to  exercise  it  continues  virtually  to  reside  in  human 
nature ;  but  it  slumbers,  or  rather  rests  only  in  germ,  in  per- 
spective, until  the  capacity  needed  developes  itself,  and  then  it 
awakens  and  developes  itself  with  the  capacity. 

You  will  remember  what  I  said  in  our  last  lecture,  as  to  the 
state  of  Roman  civil  society  in  the  fifth  century.  I  endea- 
vored to  describe  its  profound  decay.  You  saw  the  aris- 
tocratic classes  perishing  away,  their  numbers  immensely  re- 
duced, their  influence  gone — their  virtue  gone. 

Whosoever  amongst  them  possessed  any  energy,  any  moral 
activity,  entered  into  the  body  of  the  Christian  clergy.  There 
remained,  in  point  of  fact,  only  the  mere  populace,  the  plebs 
romana,  who  rallied  around  the  priests  and  the  bishops,  and 
formed  the  Christian  people. 

Between  this  people  and  its  new  chiefs,  between  religious 
society  and  ecclesiastical  society,  the  inequality  was  extremely 
great ;  an  inequality  not  only  in  wealth,  in  influence,  in  social 
situation,  but  in  information,  in  intellectual  and  moial  develop- 
ment. And  the  more  Christianity,  by  the  mere  fact  of  its  con- 
tinuous duration,  developed  itself,  extended  itself,  elevated 
itself,  the  more  this  inequality  increased  and  manifested  itself. 
The  questions  of  faith  and  doctrine  became,  year  after  year, 
more  complex  and  more  difficult  of  solution ;  the  rules  of 
church  discipline,  her  relations  with  civil  society,  in  like 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  65 

manner  grew  more  extensive  and  complicated ;  so  that  in 
order  to  take  part  in  the  administration  of  its  affairs,  there 
vvas  requisite,  from  epoch  to  epoch,  a  greater  and  still  greater 
development  of  mind,  of  learning,  of  character ;  in  a  word, 
moral  conditions  more  and  more  elevated,  more  and  more  dif- 
ficult to  be  met  with ;  and  yet,  such  was  the  general  disorder 
in  society,  such  the  universal  calamity  of  the  period,  that  the 
moral  condition  of  the  people,  instead  of  growing  better,  and 
of  a  higher  character,  fell  lower  and  lower  every  day. 

We  have  here,  after  having  made  every  allowance  for  the 
part  taken  in  the  change  by  human  passions  and  personal  in- 
terests, we  have  here,  I  say,  the  true  cause  which  transferred 
religious  society  to  the  empire  of  ecclesiastical  society,  which 
took  all  power  from  the  body  of  the  faithful  and  gave  it  to  the 
clergy  alone. 

Let  us  inquire  how  this  second  revolution,  of  which  we 
have  seen  the  origin,  was  worked  out.  How,  in  the  very 
bosom  of  ecclesiastical  society,  power  passed  from  the  priests 
to  the  bishops. 

We  have  here  an  important  distinction  to  observe  :  the  po- 
sition of  the  bishops  in  their  diocese,  and  in  relation  to  the 
general  government  of  the  church,  was,  in  the  fifth  century, 
no  longer  what  it  had  been.  Within  his  diocese,  the  bishop 
did  not  govern  by  his  sole  authority ;  he  required  the  concur- 
rence and  assent  of  his  clergy.  This,  indeed,  was  not  an 
absolute  institution:  the  fact  was  not  regulated  in  any  fixed 
manner,  nor  according  to  permanent  forms ;  but  the  existence 
of  the  fact  is  manifested  by  every  document  connected  with 
urban  or  diocesan  administration.  The  words,  cum  assensu 
clericorum,  constantly  recur  in  the  monuments  of  the  period. 
In  questions,  however,  concerning  the  general  government, 
whether  of  the  ecclesiastical  province,  or  of  the  church  at 
large,  the  case  was  different ;  the  bishops  alone  attended  the 
councils,  as  representatives  of  this  government ;  when  simple 
priests  appeared  there  it  was  as  delegates  of  their  bishops. 
The  general  government  of  the  church  at  this  period  was 
entirely  episcopal. 

You  must  not,  however,  attach  to  the  words  which  havo 
just  occurred,  the  meaning  which  they  assumed  at  a  later  pe- 
riod :  you  must  not  imagine  that  each  bishop  went  to  the 
councils  solely  on  his  own  account,  in  virtue  of  his  o  f/n  right. 
He  went  there  as  the  representative  of  his  clergy.  The  idea 
'hat  the  bishop,  the  natural  chief  of  his  priests,  should  speak 


66  HISTORY    OF 

and  act  everywhere  on  their  behalf,  and  in  their  name,  was  a 
this  period  prevalent  in  all  minds,  in  the  minds  of  the  bishops 
themselves,  and  limited  their  power,  while  it  practically  served 
as  a  ladder  whereby  they  ascended  higher  and  higher,  and 
gradually  emancipated  themselves  from  control. 

Another  cause,  and  one  perhaps  still  more  decisive,  limited 
the  councils  to  the  bishops  alone ;  this  was  the  small  number 
of  priests,  and  the  consequent  inconvenience  which  would 
have  arisen  from  their  too  frequent  absence  from  their  posts. 
To  judge  merely  Irom  the  great  part  which  they  play,  and, 
permit  me  the  expression,  from  the  noise  which  they  make  in 
the  fifth  century,  one  is  disposed  to  imagine  the  priests  a  very 
numerous  body.  Such  was  not  at  all  the  case :  we  have  posi- 
tive indications,  historical  proofs,  which  show  the  contrary. 
In  the  commencement  of  the  fifth  century,  for  instance,  we 
meet  with  a  question  as  to  the  number  of  the  priests  at  Rome  ; 
and  we  find  it  mentioned,  as  an  illustration  of  the  peculiar 
wealth  and  importance  of  that  city,  that  she  possessed  eighty 
churches  and  seventy-seven  priests. 

The  indirect  proofs  we  have  supply  the  same  conclusions  ; 
the  acts  of  the  councils  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  are 
full  of  canons  prohibiting  a  simple  clerk  from  going  into  any 
other  diocese  than  his  own  to  be  ordained  ;  a  priest  from  quit- 
ting his  diocese  to  perform  duty  elsewhere,  or  eyen  from  tra- 
velling at  all  without  the  consent  of  his  bishop. \  All  sorts  of 
means  were  adopted  for  keeping  the  priests  in  their  own  im- 
mediate district ;  they  were  watched  with  a  care  amounting 
to  the  oppressive,  so  limited  was  their  number,  so  anxious 
were  the  other  bishops  to  get  possession  of  them.  After  the 
pstablishment  of  the  barbarian  monarchies,  the  Frank  or  Bur- 
gundian  kings,  the  rich  and  more  notable  chiefs,  were  con- 
stantly endeavoring  to  seduce  from  each  other  those  compa- 
nions, those  leudes,  those  anstrustions,  who  constituted  their 
immediate  train,  their  select  guard  :  the  barbarian  laws  are 
full  of  enactments  intended  to  check  these  attempts.  We  find 
the  kings  constantly  undertaking,  in  their  mutual  treaties,  not 
to  invite  to  their  courts,  nor  even  to  receive,  their  respective 
leudes.  The  ecclesiastical  legislation  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries  exhibits  similar  regulations  with  respect  to  the 
priests,  doubtless,  on  the  same  grounds. 


1  See  the  canons  of  the  councils  of  Aries,  in  314 ;  of  Turin,  in  397 
»f  Aries,  in  450 ;  of  Tours,  in  461 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  67 

It  was  therefore  a  very  serious  affair  for  a  priest  to  quit  on 
a  distant  mission  the  church  to  which  he  was  attached  ;  it  was 
difficult  to  replace  him — the  service  of  religion  suffered  in  his 
absence.  The  establishment  of  the  representative  system,  in 
church  as  in  state,  presupposes  a  sufficient  body  of  men  to 
admit  of  one  easily  supplying  the  place  of  another  upon  occa- 
sion, and  of  their  moving  about  without  inconvenience  to  them- 
selves or  to  the  society.  Such  was  not  the  case  in  the  fifth 
century ;  and  in  order  to  have  procured  the  attendance  at 
councils  of  the  priests,  indemnification  and  coercive  measures 
might  perhaps  have  been  necessary,  as  they  were  for  a  long 
time  necessary  in  England,  to  bring  the  citizens  to  parliament. 
Everything,  therefore,  tended  to  transfer  the  government  of 
the  church  to  the  bishops ;  and,  accordingly,  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury, the  episcopal  system  was  almost  in  full  operation. 

As  to  the  system  of  pure  monarchy,  the  only  one  upon 
which  we  have  not  as  yet  remarked,  because  it  is  a  system 
which  facts  have  not  as  yet  presented  to  us,  it  was  very  far 
from  dominating  at  this  epoch,  or  even  from  claiming  to  do- 
minate ;  and  the  most  practised  sagacity,  the  most  ardent 
aspirations  of  personal  ambition,  could  not  then  have  foreseen 
its  future  destinies.  Not  that  but  we  see,  even  thus  early, 
the  papacy  increasing  daily  in  consideration  and  influence ; 
it  is  impossible  to  read  with  impartiality  the  monuments  of 
the  period,  without  perceiving  that,  from  every  part  of  Europe, 
applications  were  constantly  being  made  to  the  bishop  of 
Rome  for  his  opinion,  nay,  his  decision,  in  matters  of  faith, 
of  discipline,  in  the  trials  of  bishops,  in  a  word,  upon  all  the 
great  occasions  wherein  the  church  is  interested.  Very 
often,  indeed,  it  was  merely  an  opinion  for  which  he  was  asked ; 
and  when  he  had  given  it,  those  of  the  interested  parties  who 
disapproved  of  his  judgment,  refused  to  abide  by  it;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  was  supported  by  a  more  or  less  powerful 
party,  and,  as  a  general  result,  his  preponderance  became 
more  and  more  decided  after  every  one  of  their  appeals. 
There  were  two  causes  which  more  especially  contributed  to 
produce  these  references  to  the  bishop  of  Rome :  on  the  one 
hand,  the  patriarchate  principle  still  held  sway  in  the  church  j 
above  bishops  and  archbishops,  with  privileges  more  nominal 
than  real,  but  still  generally  admitted  in  theory,  there  was  a 
patriarch  presiding.  The  east  had  several  patriarchs,  thfc 
patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  the  patriarch  of  Antioch,  the  patri- 
irch  of  Constantinople,  of  Alexandria.     In  the  west  there 


88  HISTORY    OF 

Was  but  one  patnarch,  the  bishop  of  Rome  ;  and  this  circum 
stance  had  a  great  share  in  the  exclusive  elevation  of  the 
papacy.  The  tradition,  moreover,  that  St.  Peter  had  been 
bishop  of  Rome,  and  the  idea  that  the  popes  were  his  suc- 
cessors, already  strongly  possessed  the  minds  of  the  western 
Christians. 

We  thus  clearly  trace,  in  the  first  five  ages,  the  historical 
foundations  of  all  the  systems  which  have  been  cited  or  ap- 
plied, both  as  to  the  internal  organization,  and  as  to  the  exter- 
nal position  of  the  religious  society.  These  systems  are  far 
from  being  of  the  same  importance ;  some  of  them  have  only 
appeared,  in  passing,  as  mere  transitory,  accidental  circum- 
stances ;  the  others  have  remained  for  a  long  time  in  germ, 
Save  developed  themselves  slowly  and  deliberately  ;  they  are 
of  different  dates,  and,  as  I  have  said,  of  very  various  import- 
ance ;  but  they  are  all  connected  with  some  fact,  they  can  all 
cite  some  authority. 

When  we  seek  what  principles  prevailed  amidst  this  variety 
of  principles,  what  great  results  were  accomplished  in  the 
fifth  century,  we  discover  the  following  facts : — 

1.  The  separation  of  the  religious  society  and  of  the  eccle- 
siastical society :  a  result  more  especially  due  to  the  extreme 
intellectual  and  social  inequality  which  existed  between  the 
people  and  the  Christian  clergy. 

2.  The  predominance  of  the  aristocratic  system  in  the  in- 
terior organization  of  the  ecclesiastical  society  :  the  interven- 
tion of  simple  priests  in  the  government  of  the  church  became 
less  and  less  frequent,  less  and  less  influential ;  power  con- 
centrated itself  more  and  more  in  the  hands  of  the  bishops. 

3.  Finally,  as  to  the  relations  of  the  religious  society  with 
the  civil  society  of  the  church,  with  the  state,  the  system  in 
force  was  that  of  alliance,  of  intercourse  between  powers 
distinct,  but  in  perpetual  contact  with  each  other. 

These  are  the  three  great  features  which  characterize  the 
state  of  the  church  at  the  commencement  of  the  fifth  century. 
At  the  bare  statement  of  them,  in  their  general  appearance 
alone,  it  is  impossible  not  to  perceive  the  germs  of  danger, 
on  the  one  hand,  in  the  bosom  of  the  religious  society,  to  the 
liberty  of  the  body  of  the  faithful,  and  in  the  bosom  of  the 
ecclesiastical  society  to  the  liberty  of  the  body  of  the  clergy. 
The  almost  exclusive  predominance  of  the  priests  over  the 
faithful,  and  of  the  bishops  over  the  priests,  gave  clear  pre- 
sage of  the  abuses  of  power  and  of  the  disorders  of  revolu. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  69 

tions.  The  men  of  the  fifth  century,  however,  though  they 
might  well  have  conceived  such  fears,  had  no  notion  what- 
ever of  them ;  the  Christian  society  of  that  period  was  wholly 
absorbed  in  regulating  itself,  in  constituting  itself  a  fixed  and 
determinate  body ;  it  required,  beyond  all  things,  order,  law, 
government ;  and  despite  the  dangerous  tendency  of  some  of 
the  principles  which  then  prevailed,  the  liberties,  both  of  the 
people  in  the  religious  society,  and  of  the  simple  priests  in 
the  ecclesiastical  society,  were  not  without  reality  and  secur- 
ity. • 

The  first  consisted  in  the  election  of  the  bishops,  a  fact 
which  I  need  not  seek  to  establish,  for  it  is  perfectly  self- 
evident,  to  any  one  who  but  glances  over  the  monuments  of 
the  period.  This  election  was  conducted  neither  according 
to  general  rules,  nor  with  permanent  forms  ;  it  was  altogether 
irregular,  various,  and  influenced  by  fortuitous  circumstances. 
In  374,  the  bishop  of  Milan,  Auxentius,  an  Arian  in  his 
opinions,  being  dead,  his  successor  was  about  to  be  elected  in 
the  cathedral. 

The  people,  the  clergy,  the  bishops  of  the  province,  were 
all  there,  and  all  very  animated  ;  the  two  parties,  the  orthodox 
and  the  Arians,  each  wished  to  nominate  a  bishop.  The 
tumult  ended  in  a  violent  confusion.  A  governor  had  just 
arrived  at  Milan,  in  the  name  of  the  emperor ;  he  was  a  young 
man  named  Ambrose.  Informed  of  the  tumult,  he  repaired 
to  the  church  in  order  to  quiet  it ;  his  words,  his  air,  were 
pleasing  to  the  people.  He  had  a  good  reputation  :  a  voice 
arose  in  the  midst  of  the  church — according  to  tradition,  the 
voice  of  a  child ;  it  cried,  "  Let  Ambrose  be  nominated 
bishop  !"  And,  forthwith,  Ambrose  was  nominated  bishop  ; 
he  afterwards  became  Saint  Ambrose. 

This  is  an  example  of  the  manner  in  which  episcopal  elec- 
tions were  still  made  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century.  It  is 
true  they  were  not  all  so  disorderly  and  sudden ;  but  these 
characteristics  did  not  shock  or  astonish  any  one,  and  the  day 
following  his  elevation,  Saint  Ambrose  was  acknowledged  by 
all  to  be  properly  elected.  Would  you  wish  that  we  should 
look  to  a  posterior  epoch,  to  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  for 
example  ?  I  open  the  collection  of  the  letters  of  Sidonius 
Apollinarius,  the  most  curious,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most 
authentic  monument  of  the  manners  of  that  time,  especially 
the  manners  of  religious  society  ;  Sidonius  was  bishop  of 
Clermont ;  he  himself  collected  and  revised  his  letters ;  what 

18 


70  HISTORY    OF 

we  find  there  written  is  exactly  what  he  wished  to  bequeath 
to  posterity.  Here  is  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to  hia 
friend  Domnulus. 

"  SIDONIUS    TO    HIS    DEAR    DOMNULUS  ;    HEALTH. 

"  Since  you  desire  to  know  what  our  father  in  Christ, 
the  Pontiff  Patient,2  with  his  customary  piety  and  firmness, 
has  dene  at  Chalons,  I  can  no  longer  delay  causing  you 
to  share  our  great  joy.  He  arrived  in  this  town,  partly 
preceded  and  partly  followed  by  the  bishops  of  the  province, 
assembled,  in  order  to  give  a  chief  to  the  church  of  this  city, 
so  troubled  and  unsteady  in  its  discipline  since  the  retire- 
ment  and  death  of  bishop  Paul. 

"  The  assembly  found  various  factions  in  the  town,  all  those 
private  intrigues  which  can  never  be  formed  but  to  the  detri- 
ment of  public  welfare,  and  which  were  excited  by  a  trium- 
virate of  competitors.  One  of  them,  destitute  of  all  virtue, 
made  a  parade  of  his  antique  race ;  another,  like  a  new  Apicius, 
got  himself  supported  by  the  applause  and  clamors  of  noisy 
parasites,  gained  by  the  agency  of  his  kitchen ;  a  third  engaged 
himself  by  a  secret  bargain,  if  he  attained  the  object  of  his 
ambition,  to  abandon  the  domains  of  the  church  to  the  pillage 
of  his  partisans.  Saint  Patient  and  Saint  Euphronius,3  who, 
setting  aside  all  aversion  and  all  favor,  were  the  first  to 
maintain  firmly  and  rigidly  the  most  sound  views,  were  not 
long  in  learning  the  state  of  things.  Before  manifesting 
anything  in  public,  they  first  held  counsel  in  secret  with  the 
bishops  their  colleagues ;  then,  braving  the  cries  of  a  mob 
of  furies,  they  suddenly  nominated,  without  his  having  formed 
any  desire  or  having  any  idea  of  being  elected,  a  pious  man 
named  John,  commendable  from  his  honesty,  charity,  and 
mildness.  John  had  first  been  a  reader,  and  had  served  at 
the  altar  from  his  infancy ;  after  much  time  and  labor,  he 
became  an  archdeacon.  .  .  .  He  was,  therefore,  a  priest  only 
of  the  second  order,  and  amidst  these  furious  factions  no 
one  exalted  by  his  praise  a  man  who  asked  nothing  ;  but 
neither  did  any  one  dare  to  accuse  a  man  who  merited  only 
eulogies.     Our  bishops  have  proclaimed  him  their  colleague. 


1  Book  IV..  Letter  25  a  Bishop  of  Lyons. 

*  Bishop  of  Autun. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  7i 

to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  intriguers,  to  the  extreme 
confusion  of  the  wicked,  but  with  the  acclamations  of  good 
men,  and  without  any  person  daring  or  wishing  to  oppose 
him." 

Just  now  we  were  at  a  popular  election  ;  here  is  one  equally 
irregular  and  unforeseen,  brought  about  at  once,  in  the  midst 
of  the  people,  by  two  pious  bishops.  Here  is  a  third,  if  pos- 
sible, still  more  singular.  Sidonius  himself  is  at  once  the 
narrator  and  actor  of  it. 

The  bishop  of  Bourges  was  dead  :  such  was  the  ardor  ol 
the  competitors  and  their  factions,  that  the  town  was  thrown 
into  disorder  by  them,  and  could  find  no  means  of  coming  tc 
a  decision.  The  inhabitants  of  Bourges  thought  of  address- 
ing themselves  to  Sidonius,  illustrious  throughout  Gaul  for 
his  birth,  wealth,  eloquence,  and  knowledge,  long  since  in- 
vested with  the  highest  civil  functions,  and  recently  nomi- 
nated bishop  of  Clermont.  They  begged  him  to"  choose 
them  a  bishop,  almost  in  the  same  way  as,  in  the  infancy  of 
the  Greek  republics,  the  people,  tired  of  civil  storms  and  its 
own  powerlessness,  sought  a  foreign  sage  to  give  them  laws. 
Sidonius,  rather  surprised  at  first,  nevertheless  consented, 
assured  himself  of  the  concurrence  of  the  bishops,  who  would 
have  to  ordain  the  person  whom  he  alone  had  the  charge  of 
electing,  and  repairing  to  Bourges,  assembled  the  people  in  the 
cathedral.  I  will  cite  the  letter  in  which  he  gives  an  account 
of  the  whole  affair  to  Perpetuus,  bishop  of  Tours,  and  sends 
him  the  discourse  which  he  pronounced  in  this  assembly  • 
they  are  both  rather  lengthy  ;  but  this  mixture  of  rhetoric  and 
religion,  these  literary  puerilities  amidst  the  mast  animateo 
scenes  of  real  life,  this  confusion  of  the  bel  esprit  and  of  the 
bishop,  make  this  singular  society  better  known  than  all  the- 
dissertations  in  the  world  ;  this  society  at  once  old  and  young 
in  decline  and  in  progress  :  I  shall  only  here  and  there  omit  a 
passage  without  interest. 


SIDONIUS   TO   THE    LORD   POPE   PERPETUUS  :    HEALTH 


"  In  your  zeal  for  spiritual  reading,  you  go  so  far  as  to 
wish  to  become  acquainted  with  writings  which  are  not  iD 
any  way  worthy  of  your  attention,  or  of  exercising  your  judg. 


1  Book  VII..  Letter  9. 


72  HISTORY    OF 

ment.  You  thus  ask  me  to  send  you  the  discourse  which  1 
delivered  in  the  church  to  the  people  of  Bourges,  a  discourse 
to  which  neither  the  divisions  of  rhetoric,  nor  the  movements 
of  the  oratorical  art,  nor  grammatical  figures,  have  lent 
fitting  elegance  or  regularity  ;  for  on  this  occasion  I  was 
unable  to  combine,  according  to  the  general  usage  of  orators, 
the  grave  testimonies  of  history,  the  fictions  of  poets,  the 
flashes  of  controversy.  The  seditions,  cabals,  and  differences 
of  parties,  hurried  me  away  ;  and  if  the  occasion  furnished 
me  with  ample  materials,  affairs  did  not  allow  me  time  to 
rweditate  upon  them.  There  was  such  a  crowd  of  competitors, 
that  two  benches  could  not  accommodate  all  the  candidates 
for  a  single  see  ;  all  were  pleasing  to  themselves,  and  each 
displeasing  to  the  rest.  We  could  not  even  have  done  any- 
thing for  the  common  good,  if  the  people,  more  calm,  had 
not  renounced  its  own  judgment  in  order  to  submit  itself  to 
that  of  the  bishops.  A  few  priests  whispered  in  a  corner, 
but  in  public  not  a  sound  of  disapprobation  was  heard  from 
them,  for  the  greater  part  dreaded  their  own  order  no  less 
than  the  other  orders.  .  .  .  Accept,  then,  this  sheet :  I  have 
dictated  it,  Christ  is  witness,  in  two  watches  of  a  summer 
night ;  but  I  much  fear  that  in  reading  it  you  will  think  more 
of  it  than  I  propose. 

"  THE    DISCOURSE. 

"  Dearly  beloved,  profane  history  reports  that  a  certain 
philosopher  taught  his  disciples  patience  in  keeping  silence, 
before  he  disclosed  to  them  the  art  of  speaking,  and  that  for  this 
purpose  all  novices  observed  a  rigorous  silence  for  five  years, 
amid  the  discussion  of  their  co-disciples ;  so  that  the  most 
prompt  minds  could  not  be  praised  until  a  suitable  time 
had  elapsed  for  them  to  be  understood.  With  regard  to  my- 
self, my  weakness  is  reserved  for  a  very  different  condition,  I 
who,  before  having  filled  with  any  man  the  more  humble  func- 
tion of  disciple,  see  myself  obliged  to  undertake  with  you 
the  task  of  doctor.1  .  .  .  But  since  it  is  your  pleasure  in  your 
error,  to  wish  that  I,  devoid  of  wisdom,  should  seek  for 
you,  with  the  aid  of  Christ,  a  bishop  full  of  wisdom,  and 
in  whose  person  all  kinds  of  virtues  are  to  be  united,  know 


»  Sidonius  had  just  been  nominated  bishop;  towards  the  end  of  471. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  78 

that  your  agreement  in  this  desire,  while  it  does  me  great 
honor,  also  imposes  upon  me  a  great  burden.  .  .  . 

"And  first,  it  is  necessary,  that  you  should  know  what 
torrents  of  injuries  await  me,  and  to  what  hayings  of  human 
voices  the  crowd  of  pretenders  will  give  way  against  you.  .  . 
If  I  should  nominate  one  from  among  the  monks,  if  he 
were  even  comparable  with  Paul,  with  Auton,  Hilarius,  or 
Macarius,  already  do  I  feel  resounding  round  my  ears  the 
noisy  murmurs  of  an  ignoble  crowd  of  pigmies  who  complain, 
saying  :  f  he  they  have  nominated,  fills  the  functions,  not  of 
a  bishop,  but  of  an  abbot ;  he  is  far  more  fitted  to  intercede 
for  souls  with  the  celestial  judge,  than  for  bodies  before  the 
judges  upon  earth.'  Who  will  not  be  profoundly  irritated, 
at  seeing  the  most  sincere  virtues  represented  as  vices  ?  If 
we  select  an  humble  man,  they  will  call  him  abject ;  if 
we  select  one  of  a  proud  character  they  will  treat  him  as 
haughty ;  if  we  propose  a  man  with  but  little  enlightenment, 
his  ignorance  will  bring  ridicule  upon  him ;  if,  on  the  con- 
trary, he  is  a  scholar,  his  learning  will  be  called  puffed  up 
pride  ;  if  he  be  austere,  they  will  hate  him  as  cruel ;  if  he  be 
indulgent,  they  will  accuse  him  of  too  great  facility ;  if  simple, 
they  will  disdain  him  as  a  beast ;  if  full  of  penetration, 
they  will  reject  him  as  cunning ;  if  he  be  exact,  they  will 
call  him  peddling ;  if  easy,  they  will  call  him  negligent ;  if  he 
has  an  astute  mind,  they  will  declare  he  is  ambitious ;  if 
tranquil  in  his  manner,  they  will  reckon  him  lazy  ;  if  sober, 
they  will  take  him  to  be  avaricious ;  if  he  eat  in  order  to 
nourish  himself,  they  will  accuse  him  of  gormandizing ;  if  he 
fast  regularly,  they  will  tax  him  with  ostentation.  .  .  .  Thus, 
in  whatever  manner  one  lives,  good  conduct  and  good  quali- 
ties will  always  be  abandoned  to  the  keen  tongues  of  slander, 
which  resemble  hooks  with  two  barbs.  And  moreover,  the 
people  in  its  stubbornness,  the  priests  in  their  indocility,  are 
with  difficulty  brought  under  monastic  discipline. 

"  If  I  nominate  a  priest,  those  who  have  been  ordained  after 
him  will  be  jealous,  those  who  have  been  ordained  before  him 
will  defame  him  ;  for  among  them  there  are  some  (and  be  it 
said  without  offence  to  others)  who  think  that  the  length  of  the 
duration  of  priesthood  is  the  only  measure  of  merit,  and  who 
consequently  wish,  that  in  the  election  of  a  prelate  we  should 
proceed  not  with  a  view  to  the  common  welfare,  but  accord- 
ing to  age  .  .  . 

"  If,  bv  change,  I  were  to  point  out  to  you  a  man  who  had 


74  HISTORY    OF 

filled  military  offices,  1  should  soon  hear  these  words :  "  Sido 
nius,  because  he  has  passed  from  the  secular  functions  to  the 
spiritual,  will  not  take  a  man  from  the  religious  order  for  a 
bishop ;  proud  of  his  birth,  raised  to  the  first  rank  by  the  in- 
signia of  his  dignities,  he  scorns  the  poor  in  Christ.'  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  I  at  once  make  the  declaration  which  I  owe, 
not  so  much  to  the  charity  of  good  people,  as  to  the  suspicions 
of  the  wicked.  In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  our  Almighty 
God,  who,  by  the  voice  of  Peter,  condemned  Simon  the  ma- 
gician for  having  thought  that  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
could  be  bought  with  gold,  I  declare  that,  in  the  choice  of  the 
man  whom  I  believed  most  worthy,  I  have  not  been  influenced 
by  either  money  or  favor ;  and  that,  after  having  examined 
as  much  and  even  more  than  was  necessary,  the  individual, 
the  time,  the  province,  and  the  town,  I  have  judged  that  he 
who  was  the  best  suited  to  be  given  to  you,  is  the  man  whose 
life  I  shall  review  in  a  few  words. 

"  Simplicius,  blessed  of  God,  answers  to  the  wishes  of  the 
two  orders  both  by  his  conduct  and  profession;  the  republic 
may  find  in  him  much  to  admire,  the  church  much  to  cherish. 
If  we  would  bear  respect  to  birth  (and  the  Evangelist  himself 
has  proved  to  us  that  this  consideration  must  not  be  neglected, 
for  Luke,  in  beginning  the  eulogy  of  John,  reckons  it  a  great 
advantage  that  he  descended  from  a  sacerdotal  race),  the  rela- 
tions of  Simplicius  have  presided  in  the  church  and  in  the  tri- 
bunals ;  his  family  has  been  illustrious  in  bishops  and  pre- 
lates ;  so  that  his  ancestors  have  always  been  in  possession  of 
the  power  of  carrying  out  the  laws,  both  human  and  divine  .  . . 
If  we  look  to  his  age,  he  has  at  once  all  the  activity  of  youth 
and  the  prudence  of  age  ...  If  charity  be  desired,  he  has 
shown  it  in  profusion  to  the  citizen,  the  priest,  and  the  pilgrim, 
to  the  common  people  as  to  the  great ;  and  his  bread  has  been 
more  frequently  and  the  rather  tasted  by  him  who  gave  nothing 
in  return.  If  the  fulfilment  of  a  mission  be  necessary,  more 
than  once  has  Simplicius  presented  himself  for  your  town, 
before  kings  covered  with  ermine  and  before  princes  adorned 
with  purple.  .  .  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  speak  of  a  thing 
which,  notwithstanding,  should  not  be  omitted.  Formerly,  in 
those  ancient  times  of  Moses,  according  to  the  Psalmist,  when 
it  was  necessary  to  elevate  the  ark  of  the  covenant,  all  Israel, 
in  the  desert,  heaped  the  produce  of  its  offerings  at  the  feet  of 
Beseleel.  Afterwards,  Solomon,  in  order  to  construct  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem,  put  in  motion  the  whole  force  of  th« 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  7ft 

people,  although  he  had  united  the  gifts  of  the  queen  of  the 
southern  country  of  Saba  to  the  riches  of  Palestine,  and  to  the 
tributes  of  the  neighboring  kings.  Simplicius,  young,  a  sol- 
dier,  unaided,  still  under  the  paternal  roof,  though  already  a 
father,  has  also  constructed  you  a  church ;  he  was  arrested  in 
his  pious  work,  neither  by  the  attachment  of  old  men  to  their 
property,  nor  by  consideration  for  his  young  children ;  and 
still  his  modesty  is  such  that  he  has  kept  silence  upon  this 
subject.  And  in  fact,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  this  man 
is  a  stranger  to  all  popular  ambition ;  he  seeks  not  the  favoi 
of  all,  but  only  that  of  good  men  ;  he  does  not  lower  himself 
to  an  imprudent  familiarity,  but  he  attaches  a  high  value  to 
solid  friendships.  .  .  .  Lastly,  he  should  especially  be  desired 
for  a  bishop,  because*  he  is  not  in  the  least  desirous  of  it;  he 
iabors  not  to  obtain  the  priesthood,  but  to  deserve  it. 

"  Some  one  will,  perhaps,  say  to  me,  But  how,  in  so  short  a 
time,  have  you  learned  so  much  concerning  this  man  ?  I  will 
answer  him :  I  knew  the  inhabitants  of  Bourges  before  know- 
ing the  town.  I  have  learnt  much  of  them  on  my  road,  in  the 
military  service,  in  the  relations  of  money  and  affairs,  in  their 
travels  and  mine.  One  also  learns  much  of  things  from  pub- 
lic opinion,  for  nature  does  not  confine  fame  to  the  narrow 
limits  of  a  particular  country. 

"  The  wife  of  Simplicius  descends  from  the  family  of  the 
Palladii,  who  have  occupied  professorships  of  letters  and 
served  altars,  with  the  approbation  of  their  order ;  and  as  the 
character  of  a  matron  should  only  be  called  back  succinctly 
and  with  modesty,  I  shall  content  myself  with  affirming  that 
this  lady  worthily  responds  to  the  merit  and  honors  of  the  two 
families,  whether  of  that  where  she  was  born  and  has  grown 
up,  or  of  that  into  which  she  has  passed  by  an  honorable 
choice.  Both  bring  up  their  sons  worthily  and  with  all  wis- 
dom, and  the  father,  in  comparing  them  with  himself,  finds  a 
new  subject  of  happiness  that  his  children  already  surpass 
himself. 

"  And  since  you  have  sworn  to  acknowledge  and  accept  my 
declaration  upon  the  subject  of  this  election,  in  the  name  of 
the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  Simplicius  is  ho 
whom  I  declare  bishop  of  our  province,  and  sovereign  pontiff 
of  your  town.  With  regard  to  yourselves,  if  you  adopt  my 
decision  concerning  the  man  whom  I  have  been  speaking  of 
approve  it  conformably  to  your  first  engagements." 

It  is  needless  to  add  more ;  these  three  examples  are  full) 


76 


HISTORY   OF 


sufficient  thoroughly  to  explain  what  the  election  of  nishops 
was  in  the  fifth  century.  Without  doubt  it  possessed  none  of 
the  characteristics  of  a  veritable  constitution ;  devoid  of  rules, 
of  permanent  and  legal  forms,  abandoned  to  the  chance  of 
circumstances  and  passions,  it  was  not  one  of  those  powerful 
liberties  before  which  a  long  future  opens  itself,  but,  for  the 
time  being,  it  was  a  genuine  reality ;  it  led  to  a  great  move- 
ment in  the  interior  of  cities  ;  it  was  an  efficacious  guarantee. 

There  was  a  second,  the  frequent  holding  of  councils.  The 
general  government  of  the  church,  at  this  epoch,  was  com- 
pletely in  the  hands  of  the  councils — general,  national,  pro- 
vincial councils.  They  there  discussed  questions  of  faith  and 
discipline,  the  actions  of  bishops,  all  the  great  or  difficult 
affairs  of  the  church.  In  the  course  of  the  fourth  century,  we 
find  fifteen  councils,  and  in  the  fifth  century  twenty-five  ;x  and 
these  are  only  the  principal  councils,  those  of  which  written 
notices  have  been  left ;  there  were  certainly  besides  a  large 
number  of  local  councils,  of  short  duration,  which  have  left  no 
monument,  of  which  even  the  recollection  is  lost. 

An  indirect  evidence  shows  the  importance  of  councils  at 
this  epoch.  Every  one  knows  that,  in  England,  in  the  origin 
of  representative  government,  at  the  time  of  the  formation  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  many  statutes  were  made,  prescribing 


1  List  oftheprincipxl  Councils  of  the  Fourth  Century. 


Date. 

Place. 

Present. 

314 

346 
353 
355 
356 
358 
358 
360 
362 
374 
385 
380 
386 
387 
397 

Aries      .... 

Cologne           .     . 
Aries      .... 
Poitiers  .... 
Beziers  .     . 
Vaison    .... 
Place  unknown    . 
Place  unknown    . 
Paris      .... 
Valencia     .     .     . 
Bordeaux    .     .     . 
Tr6ves    .... 
Place  unknown    . 
Nimes   .... 
Turin  .       ... 

C  33  bishops,    14  priests,  25  deacons, 

I     8  "eaders  or  exorcists. 

14  bishops,  10  delegate  priests 

The  bishops  of  Gaul. 

Ibid. 
Ibid. 
Ibid. 
Ibid. 
21  bishops. 

r 

The  bishops  of  Gaol.                                h 

! 

15 

) 

CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


77 


the  regular  and  frequent  holding  of  parliaments.  The  same 
fact  appears,  at  the  fifth  century,  with  regard  to  councils 
Many  canons — among  others,  those  of  the  council  of  Orange, 
held  in  441 — enact  that  a  council,  shall  never  separate  with- 
out indicating  the  following  council  and  that,  if  the  misfortunes 
of  the  times  prevent  them  from  holding  a  council  twice  a 
year,  according  to  the  canons,  all  possible  precautions  shall 
be  taken  to  insure  that  no  long  period  shall  elapse  with- 
out  one. 

Thus  the  two  great  guarantees  of  liberty  in  society,  election 
and  discussion,  existed,  in  fact,  in  the  ecclesiastical  society 
of  the  fifth  century — disordered,  it  is  true,  incomplete,  preca- 
rious, as  after  times  have  clearly  proved,  for  the  time  being, 
real  and  powerful,  at  once  the  cause  and  the  evidence  of  the 
movement  and  ardor  of  mind. 


List  of  the  principal  Councils  of  the  Fifth  Century. 


Date. 


406 
419 
429 
439 
441 
442 
444 
451 
452 
452 
453 
454 
455 
460 
461 

463 
465 
470 
472 
474 
475 
475 
495 
496 
499 

25 


Place. 


Toulouse  .     . 
Valencia   .     . 
Place  uncertain 
Riez      .     .     . 
Orange      .     . 
Vaison  .     .     . 
Place  uncertain 
Place  uncertain 
Aries    .     .     . 
Narbonne .     . 
Angers.     .     . 
Bourges   •.     . 
Aries    .     .     . 
Lyons  .     .     . 
Tours   .     .     . 


Aries    .     .    . 
Vannes      .     .     . 
Chalons-sur-Saone 
Bourges     .     . 
Vienne      .     , 
Aries    .    . 


Lyons 
Lyons 
Reims 
Lyons 


Present. 


The  bishops  of  Gaul. 
Ibid. 

13  bishops,  1  delegate  priest. 
16  bishops,  1  priest. 


44  bishops. 

The  bishops  of  Narbonnensis  prima. 

8  bishops. 

The  bishops  of  Gaul. 

13  bishops. 

8  bishops,  1  delegate  priest 

1  bishop,  subscribed  afterwards. 

19  bishops. 

6  bishops. 

The  bishops  of  the  Lyonnese. 


30  bishops 


8  bishops. 


78  HISTORY    OF 

Now,  let  us  put  this  state  of  the  religious  society  by  the 
side  of  the  civil  society  which  I  endeavored  to  picture  in  our 
last  meeting.  I  shall  not  stay  to  deduce  the  consequence? 
of  this  comparison ;  they  hasten  before  the  eyes,  and  alreadj 
must  be  recognized.     I  shall  recapitulate  them  thus  : 

In  the  civil  society,  there  is  no  people  nor  government ; 
the  imperial  administration  is  fallen,  the  senatorial  aristocracy 
is  fallen,  the  municipal  aristocracy  is  fallen  ;  everywhere 
there  is  dissolution  ;  power  and  liberty  are  struck  by  the 
same  sterility,  the  same  nullity.  In  religious  society,  on  the 
contrary,  a  very  animated  people  and  a  very  active  govern- 
ment show  themselves.  The  causes  of  anarchy  and  tyranny 
are  numerous,  but  liberty  is  real,  and  power  also.  Every- 
where, the  germs  of  a  very  energetic  popular  activity,  and  a 
very  strong  government,  develope  themselves.  It  is,  in  a  word, 
a  society  replete  with  the  future,  a  stormy  future,  charged 
with  good  and  with  evil,  but  powerful  and  fertile. 

Do  you  wish  that  we  should  prosecute  this  comparison  any 
further  ?  We  have  hitherto  considered  only  general  facts,  the 
public  life,  so  to  speak,  of  the  two  societies.  Do  you  wish 
that  we  should  penetrate  into  the  domestic  life,  into  the  inte- 
rior of  houses  1  that  we  should  seek  how,  on  the  one  side,  men 
of  note  in  civil  society,  and  on  the  other  the  chiefs  of  the  re- 
ligious society,  are  employed,  how  they  pass  their  time  ?  It 
is  worth  while  to  address  this  question  to  the  fifth  century, 
because  its  answer  cannot  bu/i  be  instructive. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  and  in  the  fifth  century,  there 
was  in  Gaul  a  large  number  of  important  and  honored  men, 
long  invested  with  the  great  charges  of  the  state,  semi- 
pagans,  semi-Christians, — that  is,  having  taken  no  part,  and 
not  wishing  to  take  any  part  in  religious  matters ;  men  of 
mind,  literati,  philosophers,  full  of  desire  for  study  and  in- 
tellectual pursuits ;  rich,  and  living  in  magnificence.  Such, 
at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  was  the  poet  Ausonius,  count 
Df  the  imperial  palace,  questor,  pretorian-prefect,  consul,  and 
who  possessed  much  beautiful  property  in  Saintonge  and  near 
Bourdeaux  ;  such,  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  was  To- 
nance  Ferreol,  prefect  of  Gaul,  in  great  credit  with  the  kings 
of  the  Visigoths,  and  whose  domains  were  situated  in  Lan- 
guedoc  and  Rouergue,  upon  the  borders  of  the  Gardon,  and 
near  Milhau  ;  Eutropius,  also  prefect  of  the  Gauls,  a  plato- 
nist  by  profession,  who  lived  in  Auvergne ;  Consencius,  of 
Narbonne,  one  of  the  richest  citizens  of  the  south,  and  whose 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  7& 

country  house,  called  Octaviana,  situated  upon  the  road  to 
Beziers,  passed  for  the  most  magnificent  in  the  province. 
These  were  the  great  lords  of  Roman  Gaul ;  after  having 
occupied  the  superior  posts  of  the  country,  they  lived  upon 
their  estates  far  from  the  mass  of  the  population,  passing  their 
time  in  the  chase,  or  fishing,  in  amusements  of  all  kinds ; 
they  had  fine  libraries,  often  a  theatre,  where  they  played  the 
dramas  of  some  Rhetor,  their  client :  the  rhetorician,  Paul, 
had  his  comedy,  the  Delirius,  played  at  the  house  of  Auso- 
nius,  composed  himself  the  music  for  the  interludes,  and  pre- 
sided at  the  representation.  At  these  entertainments  were 
combined  intellectual  discussions,  literary  conversation  ;  the 
merits  of  the  ancient  authors  were  canvassed  j  their  works 
examined,  commented  upon  ;  the  guests  made  verses  upon  all 
the  petty  incidents  of  life.  In  this  way  passed  time,  agreea- 
ble, smooth,  varied,  but  enervated,  egoistical,  sterile  ;  stranger 
to  all  serious  occupation,  to  all  powerful  and  general  interest. 
And  I  speak  here  of  the  most  honorable  remnant  of  the  Ro- 
man society,  of  men  who  were  neither  corrupt,  profligate,  nor 
debased,  who  cultivated  their  intellect,  and  who  were  disgusted 
with  the  servile  manners  and  the  decay  of  their  age. 

See  what  was  the  life  of  a  bishop ;  for  example,  of  Saint 
Hilary,  bishop  of  Aries,  and  of  Saint  Loup,  bishop  of  Troyes, 
at  the  commencement  of  the  fifth  century. 

Saint  Hilary  arose  very  early  in  the  morning :  he  always 
dwelt  in  the  town  ;  from  the  time  that  he  arose,  any  one  who 
wished  to  see  him  was  received.  He  heard  complaints,  ad- 
justed differences,  performed  the  office  of  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  He  afterwards  repaired  to  the  church,  performed  ser- 
vice, preached,  taught,  sometimes  many  hours  consecutively. 
Retu-ned  home,  he  took  his  repast,  and  while  this  lasted  he 
heard  some  pious  reading  ;  or  else  he  dictated,  and  the  people 
often  entered  freely,  and  listened.  He  also  performed  manual 
labor,  sometimes  spinning  for  the  poor,  sometimes  cultivating 
the  fields  of  his  church.  Thus  passed  his  day,  in  the  midst 
of  the  people,  in  grave,  useful  occupations,  of  a  public  interest, 
which,  every  hour,  had  some  result. 

The  life  of  Saint  Loup  was  not  exactly  the  same ;  his. 
manners  were  more  austere,  his  activity  less  varied  ;  he  lived 
severely ;  and  the  rigidity  of  his  conduct,  the  assiduity  of  his 
prayers,  were  incessantly  celebrated  by  his  contemporaries. 
Thus  he  exercised  more  ascendency  by  his  general  example 
than  by  his  action3  in  detail.     He  struck  the  "imagination  of 


80  history  or 

men  to  such  a  point,  that  according  to  a  tradition,  the  tiuth  of 
which  is  of  little  importance — true  or  false,  it  equally  show: 
contemporaneous  opinion — Attila,  in  quitting  Gaul,  carried 
Saint  Loup  with  him  to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  supposing 
that  so  sainted  a  man  would  protect  his  army.  Saint  Loup 
was  besides  of  a  cultivated  mind,~and  took  an  active  interest 
in  intellectual  development.  He  was  solicitous  in  his  diocese 
about  schools  and  pious  reading  ;  and  when  it  was  necessary 
to  go  and  contend  against  the  doctrines  of  Pelagius  in 
Britain,  it  was  upon  his  eloquence,  as  well  as  that  of  Saint 
Germain  d'Auxerre,  that  the  council  of  429  confided  for  sue- 
cess. 

What  more  need  be  said  ?  the  facts  speak  clearly  ;  between 
the  great  lords  of  the  Roman  society  and  the  bishops,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  say  where  the  power  was,  to  whom  the  future 
belonged. 

I  will  add  one  fact,  indispensable  to  the  completion  of  this 
picture  of  Gaulish  society  in  the  fifth  century,  and  of  its  sin- 
gular state. 

The  two  classes  of  men,  the  two  kinds  of  activity  which  I 
have  just  placed  before  your  eyes,  were  not  always  as  distinct, 
as  separate  as  one  would  be  tempted  to  believe,  and  as  their 
difference  might  cause  it  to  be  supposed.  Great  lords, 
scarcely  Christians,  ex-prefects  of  Gaul,  men  of  the  world 
and  of  pleasure,  often  became  bishops.  They  ended,  even, 
by  being  obliged  so  to  do,  if  they  wished  to  take  any  part  in 
the  moral  movement  of  the  epoch,  to  preserve  any  real  im- 
portance, to  exercise  any  active  influence.  This  is  what  hap- 
pened to  Sidonius  Apollinaris,  as  to  many  others.  But,  in 
becoming  bishops,  they  did  not  completely  lay  aside  their 
habits,  their  tastes  ;  the  rhetorician,  the  grammarian,  the  man 
of  wit,  the  man  of  the  world  and  of  pleasure,  did  not  always 
vanish  under  the  episcopal  mantle  ;  and  the  two  societies,  the 
two  kinds  of  manners  sometimes  showed  themselves  singularly 
mixed  up  together.  Here  is  a  letter  from  Sidonius,  a  curious 
example  and  monument  of  this  strange  alliance.  He  writes 
to  his  friend  Eriphius  : 

"  SIDONIUS  TO  HIS  DEAR  ERIPHIUS  J    HEALTH. 

"  You  are  always  the  same,  my  dear  Eriphius ;  neither 
the  chase,  the  town,  nor  the  fields  attract  you  so  strongly, 
that  the  love  of  letters  cannot  still  detain  you.     You  direct 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  81 

me  to  send  you  the  verses  which  I  made  at  the  request 
of  your  father-in-law,1  that  respectable  man  who,  in  the 
society  of  his  equals,  was  equally  ready  to  command  or  to 
obey.  But  as  you  desire  to  know  in  what  place  and  upon 
what  occasion  those  verses  were  made,  to  the  end  better  to 
understand  this  valueless  production,  lay  the  blame  only  on 
yourself  if  the  preface  be  longer  than  the  work. 

"  We  were  met  at  the  sepulchre  of  Saint  Just,2  illness  pre. 
venting  you  from  joining  us.  Before  day,  the  annual  pro- 
cession was  made,  amidst  an  immense  populace  of  both  sexes, 
that  could  not  be  contained  in  the  church  and  the  crypt, 
although  surrounded  by  immense  porticoes  ;  after  the  monks 
and  priests  had  performed  morning  service,  alternately  sing- 
ing the  psalms  with  great  sweetness,  each  retired — not  very 
far,  however — to  the  end  that  all  might  be  ready  for  tierce, 
when  the  priests  should  celebrate  the  divine  sacrifice.  The 
narrow  dimensions  of  the  place,  the  crowd  which  pressed 
around  us,  and  the  large  quantity  of  lights,  had  choked  us ; 
the  oppressive  vapor  of  a  night  still  bordering  upon  summer, 
although  cooled  by  the  first  freshness  of  an  autumnal  dawn, 
made  this  inclosure  still  warmer.  While  the  various  classes 
of  society  dispersed  on  all  sides,  the  chief  citizens  assembled 
round  the  tomb  of  the  consul  Syagrius,  which  was  not  at  the 
distance  of  an  arrow-shot. 

"  Some  were  seated  under  the  shade  of  an  arbor  formed 
of  stakes  covered  with  the  branches  of  the  vine  ;  we  were 
stretched  upon  the  green  turf  embalmed  with  the  perfume  of 
flowers.  The  conversation  was  sweet,  cheerful,  pleasant ; 
moreover  (and  this  was  far  more  agreeable),  there  was  no 
question  either  of  power  or  tributes  ;  no  word  which  could 
compromise,  nor  person  who  could  be  compromised.  Who- 
soever could  in  good  terms  relate  an  interesting  history,  was 
sure  to  be  listened  to  with  earnestness.  Nevertheless,  no 
continuous  narration  was  made,  because  gaiety  frequently 
interrupted  the  discourse.  Tired  at  length  of  this  long 
repose,  we  desired  to  do  something  else.  We  soon  separated 
into  two  bands,  according  to  ages ;  one  party  loudly  demanded 
the  game  of  tennis,  the  others  a  table  and  dice.  For  myself, 
I  was  the  first  to  give  the  signal  for  tennis,  because  I  love  it, 


1  Philimathius. 

1  Bishop  of  Lyons,  towards  the  end  of  the  fourth  century.     His  ffet« 
is  celebrated  on  the  2d  of  September. 


82  HISTORY    01' 

as  you  know,  as  much  as  books.  On  the  other  side,  my 
brother  Dominicius,  a  man  full  of  kindness  and  cheerfulness, 
seized  the  dice,  shook  them,  and  struck  with  his  dice-box,  as 
if  he  had  sounded  a  trumpet,  to  call  players  to  him.  As  to 
us,  we  played  a  good  deal  with  the  crowd  of  scholars,  so  as  to 
reanimate  by  this  salutary  exercise  the  vigor  of  our  limbs 
stiffened  by  too  long  repose.  The  illustrious  Philimathius 
himself,  as  says  the  poet  of  Mantua, 

"  Ausus  et  ipse  manu  juvenum  tentare  laborem," 

constantly  mixed  with  the  players  at  tennis.  He  succeeded 
very  well  at  it  when  he  was  younger,  but  now,  as  he  was 
often  driven  from  the  middle,  where  people  were  standing,  by 
the  shock  of  some  running  player ;  as  at  other  times,  if  he 
entered  the  arena,  he  could  neither  make  way  nor  avoid  the 
ball,  and  as  frequently  overthrown,  he  only  raised  himself 
with  pain  from  the  unlucky  fall,  he  was  the  first  to  leave  the 
scene  of  the  game,  heaving  sighs,  and  very  much  heated  : 
this  exercise  had  swollen  the  fibres  of  the  liver,  and  he  expe- 
rienced poignant  pains.  I  left  off  at  once,  charitably  to  cease 
at  the  same  time  as  he,, and  thus  save  our  brother  from  feel- 
ing embarrassed  at  his  fatigue.  We  then  seated  ourselves 
again,  and  soon  he  was  forced  to  ask  for  water  to  bathe  his 
face ;  they  brought  him  some,  and  at  the  same  time  a  napkin 
covered  with  hair,  which  had  been  washed  and  was  by  chance 
suspended  from  a  cord,  held  by  a  pulley  before  the  folding- 
door  of  the  house  of  the  porter.  While  he  leisurely  dried  his 
cheeks,  he  said  to  me  :  '  I  wish  you  would  dictate  for  me  a 
quatrain  upon  the  cloth  that  has  rendered  me  this  office,' 
'  Be  it  so,'  I  answered.  "  But,'  added  he,  '  let  my  name  be 
contained  in  these  verses.'  I  replied,  that  what  he  asked  was 
feasible.  '  Well !'  he  replied,  '  dictate  them.'  '  I  then  said 
to  him,  with  a  smile  :  '  Know,  however,  that  the  muses  will 
soon  be  irritated  if  I  attempt  to  meddle  with  their  choir  amidst 
so  many  witnesses.'  He  then  answered  very  briskly,  and 
yet  with  politeness  (for  he  is  of  great  readiness  of  imagination 
and  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  wit)  :  '  Rather  take  care,  lord 
Solius,  that  Apollo  does  not  become  far  more  irritated,  if  you 
attempt  to  seduce  his  dear  pupils  in  secret  and  alone.'  You 
may  imagine  the  applause  excited  by  this  prompt  and  well- 
turned  answer.  Then,  and  without  further  delay,  I  called 
his  secretary,  who  was  there  already,  tablets  in  hand,  and  I 
dictated  to  him  a  quatrain  to  this  effect : 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  83 

"  '  Another  morning,  whether  in  going  out  of  the  hot  bath,  o/ 
when  the  chase  has  heated  his  brow,  may  the  handsome  Phi 
limathius  still  find  this  linen  to  dry  his  dripping  face,  so  thai 
the  water  may  pass  from  his  forehead  into  this  fleece  as  into 
the  throat  of  a  drinker !' 

"  Scarcely  had  your  Epiphanius  written  these  verses  when 
they  announced  to  us  that  the  hour  was  come  when  the  bishop 
came  forth,  when  we  immediately  arose." 

Sidonius  was  then  bishop,  and  doubtless  many  of  those 
who  accompanied  him  to  the  tomb  of  Saint  Just  and  to  that 
of  the  consul  Syagrius,  who  participated  with  him  in  the  cele- 
bration of  divine  service,  and  at  the  game  of  tennis,  in  the 
chanting  of  the  psalms,  and  in  the  taste  of  trifling  verses, 
were  bishops  like  him. 

We  are  now  at  the  end  of  the  first  question  which  we  laid 
down ;  we  have  considered  the  social  state  of  civil  and  reli- 
gious, Roman  and  Christian  Gaul,  at  the  fifth  century.  It 
remains  for  us  to  study  the  moral  state  of  the  same  epoch,  the 
idears,  the  doctrines,  the  sentiments  which  agitated  it ;  in  a 
word,  the  internal  and  intellectual  life  of  men.  This  will 
form  the  subject  of  the  next  lecture. 


84  HISTORY   OF 


FOURTH  LECTURE 

Object  of  the  lecture — What  must  be  understood  by  the  moral  state  of 
a  society — Reciprocal  influence  of  the  social  state  upon  the  moral 
state,  and  of  the  moral  state  upon  the  social  state — At  the  fourth 
century,  civil  Gaulish  society  alone  possessed  institutions  favorable 
to  intellectual  development — Gaulish  schools— Legal  situation  of  the 
professors — Religious  society  has  no  other  mediums  of  development 
and  influence  than  its  ideas — Still  one  languishes,  and  the  other 
prospers — Decline  of  the  civil  schools — Activity  of  the  Christian 
society — Saint  Jerome,  Saint  Augustin,  and  Saint  Paulin  of  Nola— 
Their  correspondence  with  Gaul — Foundation  and  character  of 
monasteries  in  Gaul — Causes  of  the  difference  of  the  moral  state  of 
the  two  societies — Comparative  view  of  the  civil  literature  and  tht 
Christian  literature  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries — Inequality  of 
the  liberty  of  mind  in  the  two  societies — Necessity  for  religion  lend 
ing  its  aid  to  studies  and  letters. 

Before  entering  into  the  examination  of  the  moral  state  of 
Gaulish  society  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  and  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fifth  century,  I  must  be  allowed  to  say  a  few 
words  as  to  the  nature  of  this  part  of  my  task.  These  words, 
moral  state,  have,  in  the  eyes  of  some  people,  a  somewhat 
vague  appearance.  I  would  wish  to  determine  their  meaning 
with  precision.  Moral  sciences,  now-a-days,  are  accused  of 
a  want  of  exactitude,  of  perspicuity,  of  certainty  ;  they  are 
reproached  as  not  being  sciences.  They  should,  they  may 
be  sciences,  just  the  same  as  ")hysical  sciences,  for  they  also 
exercise  themselves  upon  facts.  Moral  facts  are  not  less 
real  than  others :  man  has  not  invented  them  :  he  discovered 
and  named  them ;  he  takes  note  of  them  every  moment  of  his 
life ;  he  studies  them  as  he  studies  all  that  surrounds  him,  all 
that  comes  to  his  intelligence  by  the  interposition  of  his 
senses.  Moral  sciences  have,  if  the  expression  be  allowed, 
the  same  matter  as  other  sciences ;  they  are,  then,  not  by 
any  means  condemned  by  their  nature  to  be  less  precise  or 
less  certain.  It  is  more  difficult,  I  grant,  for  them  to  arrive 
at  exactitude,  perspicuity,  precision.  Moral  facts  are,  on  the 
one  hand,  more  extended  and  more  exact,  and,  on  the  other, 
more  profoundly  concealed,  than  physical  facts ;  they  are  at 
once  more  complex  in  their  development,  and  more  simple  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  85 

tl««ir  origin.  Hence  arises  a  much  greater  difficulty  of  ob- 
serving them,  classifying  them,  and  reducing  them  to  a 
science.  This  is  the  true  source  of  the  reproaches  of  which 
the  moral  sciences  have  often  been  the  subject.  Mark  their 
singular  fate :  they  are  evidently  the  first  upon  which  the 
human  race  occupied  itself;  when  we  go  back  to  the  cradle 
of  societies,  we  everywhere  encounter  moral  facts,  which, 
under  the  cloak  of  religion  or  of  poetry,  attracted  the  atten- 
tion, and  excited  the  thought  of  men.  And  yet,  in  order  to 
succeed  in  thoroughly  knowing  them,  scientifically  knowing 
them,  all  the  skill,  all  the  penetration,  and  all  the  prudence 
of  the  most  practised  reason  is  necessary.  Such,  therefore, 
is  the  state  of  moral  sciences,  that  they  are  at  once  the  first 
and  the  last  in  the  chronological  order ;  the  first,  the  necessity 
which  works  upon  the  human  mind  ;  the  last,  that  it  succeeds 
in  elevating  to  the  precision,  clearness,  and  certainty,  which 
is  the  scientific  character.  We  must  not,  therefore,  be  as- 
tonished nor  affrighted  by  the  reproaches  which  they  have 
incurred ;  they  are  natural  and  legitimate :  let  it  be  known 
that  neither  the  certainty  nor  the  value  of  the  moral  sciences 
are  in  the  least  affected  by  them  ;  and  thence  let  this  useful 
lesson  be  drawn,  that,  in  their  study,  in  the  observation  and 
description  of  moral  facts,  it  is  necessary,  if  possible,  to  be 
still  more  nice,  exact,  attentive,  and  strict,  than  in  anything 
else.  Profiting  by  the  lesson,  I  commence  by  determining 
with  precision,  what  I  intend  to  convey  by  these  words — the 
moral  state  of  society. 

We  have  hitherto  been  occupied  with  the  social  state  of 
Gaul,  that  is,  the  relations  of  men  among  themselves,  and  their 
external  and  natural  condition.  This  done,  the  social  rela- 
tions described,  are  the  facts,  whose  aggregate  constitutes  the 
life  of  an  epoch,  exhausted  1  Certainly  not :  there  remains 
to  be  studied  the  internal,  the  personal  state  of  men,  the  state 
of  souls,  tnat  is,  on  one  side,  the  ideas,  doctrines,  the  whole 
intelrectual  life  of  man ;  on  the  other,  the  relations  which 
connect  ideas  with  actions,  creeds  with  the  determinations  of 
the  will,  thought  with  human  liberty. 

This  is  the  two-fold  fact  which  constitutes,  in  my  opinion, 
the  moral  state  of  a  society,  and  which  we  have  to  study  in  the 
Gaulish  society  of  the  fifth  century. 

According  to  a  very  general  opinion,  I  might  dispense  with 
insisting  long  upon  this  inquiry.  It  has  often  been  said  thai 
the  moral  state  depends  upon  the  social  state,  that  the  rela 


86  HISTORY   OF 

lions  of  men  between  themselves,  the  principles  01  customs 
which  preside  in  these  relations,  decide  their  ideas,  their  sen- 
timents, their  internal  life ;  that  governments  and  institutions 
make  the  people.  This  was  a  dominant  idea  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, and  was  produced,  under  different  forms,  by  the  most 
illustrious  writers  of  the  age,  Montesquieu,  Voltaire,  the 
economists,  the  publicists,  &c.  Nothing  is  more  simple : 
the  revolution  that  the  last  century  brought  forth  was  a  social 
revolution  ;  it  was  far  more  occupied  in  changing  the  respect- 
ive situation  of  men,  than  their  internal  and  personal  disposi- 
tion ;  it  desired  rather  to  reform  society  than  the  individual. 
Who  will  be  surprised  that  it  was  everywhere  preoccupied 
with  what  it  sought,  with  what  it  did — that  it  was  too  much 
taken  up  with  the  social  state  ?  Yet  there  were  circumstan- 
ces which  might  have  served  to  have  warned  it :  it  labored 
to  change  the  relations,  the  external  condition  of  men ;  but 
what  were  the  instruments,  the  fulcrum  of  its  work  1  ideas, 
sentiments,  internal  and  individual  dispositions  :  it  was  by  the 
aid  of  the  moral  state  that  it  undertook  the  reform  of  the 
social  state.  The  moral  state,  then,  must  be  acknowledged 
to  be,  not  only  distinct  from,  but,  to  a  certain  point,  indepen- 
dent of  the  social  state ;  it  should  be  seen  that  situations, 
institutions  are  not  all,  nor  do  they  decide  all,  in  the  life  of 
nations ;  that  other  causes  may  modify,  contend  with,  even 
surmount  these ;  and  that  if  the  external  world  acts  upon 
man,  man  in  his  turn  acts  upon  the  world.  I  would  not,  that 
it  should  be  thought  that  I  reject  the  idea  which  I  combat ;  far 
from  it ;  its  share  of  legitimacy  is  great :  no  doubt  but  that 
the  social  state  exercised  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  moral 
state.  I  do  not  so  much  as  wish  that  this  doctrine  should  be 
exclusive  ;  the  influence  is  shared  and  reciprocal :  if  it  be 
correct  to  say  that  governments  make  nations,  it  is  no  less 
true  that  nations  make  governments.  The  question  which  is 
here  encountered  is  higher  and  greater  than  it  appears :  it  is 
a  question  whether  events,  the  life  of  the  social  world,  are,  as 
the  physical  world,  under  the  empire  of  external  and  neces- 
sary causes,  or  whether  man  himself,  his  thought,  his  will, 
concur  to  produce  and  govern  them  ;  a  question  what  is  the 
share  of  fatality  and  that  of  liberty  in  the  lot  of  the  human 
race.  A  question  of  immense  interest,  and  which  I  shall 
one  day  perhaps  have  occasion  to  treat  in  the  manner  which 
it  merits ;  at  present,  I  can  only  assign  it  its  place,  and  I  con 
tent  myself  by  claiming  for  liberty,  for  man  himself,  a  place 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  87 

a  great  place,  among  the  authors  of  events  in  the  creation  of 
history. 

I  return  to  the  inquiry  into  the  moral  state  of  civil  society 
and  religious  society  in  Gaul,  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries. 

If  institutions  could  do  all,  if  laws  supplied  and  the  means 
furnished  to  society  could  do  everything,  the  intellectual  state 
of  Gaulish  civil  society  at  this  epoch  would  have  been  far  supe- 
rior to  that  of  the  religious  society.  The  first,  in  fact,  alone 
possessed  all  the  institutions  proper  to  second  the  development 
of  mind,  the  progress  and  empire  of  ideas.  Roman  Gaul  was 
covered  with  large  schools.  The  principal  were  those  of 
Treves,  Bordeaux,  Autun,  Toulouse,  Poitiers,  Lyons,  Nar- 
bonne,  Aries,  Marseilles,  Vienne,  Besanc.on,  &c.  Some  were 
very  ancient ;  those  of  Marseilles  and  of  Autun,  for  example, 
dated  from  the  first  century.  They  were  taught  philosophy, 
medicine,  jurisprudence,  literature,  grammar,  astrology,  all 
the  sciences  of  the  age.  In  the  greater  part  of  these  schools, 
indeed,  they  at  first  taught  only  rhetoric  and  grammar ;  but 
towards  the  fourth  century,  professors  of  philosophy  and  law 
were  everywhere  introduced. 

Not  only  were  these  schools  numerous,  and  provided  with 
many  chairs,  but  the  emperors  continually  took  the  profes- 
sors of  new  measures  into  favor.  Their  interests  are,  froi«« 
clonstantine  to  Theodosius  the  younger,  the  subject  of  fre- 
quent imperial  constitutions,  which  sometimes  extended, 
.sometimes  confirmed  their  privileges ;  here  are  the  principal 
of  these : 

1.  Constantinus1  Augustus  to  Volusianus  (in  321). — "We 
order  that  physicians,  grammarians,  and  the  other  learned 
professors  be  for  the  future,  they  and  the  property  they  pos- 
sess  in  their  respective  cities,  exempt  from  all  muhicipai 
charges,  but  that,  nevertheless,  they  may  be  capable  of  being 
invested  with  the  Jionores."  We  forbid  them  to  be  harassed 
by  law,  or  that  any  wrong  be  done  them.  If  any  one  annoys 
them,  let  him  be  prosecuted  by  the  magistrates,  to  the  end 
that  they  themselves  may  be  spared  that  trouble,  and  let 
him  pay  one  hundred  thousand  pieces  to  the  excnequer ;  if  a 


i  Probably  praetorian  prefect. 

»  There  was  a  distinction  made  in  the  Roman  cities  and  municipal^ 
ties  between  the  munera,  municipal  functions  of  an  inferior  claw, 
which  conferred  no  privileges  ;  and  the  honores,  superior  functions, 
regular  magistracies,  to  which  certain  privileges  were  attached 


88  HISTORY   OF 

slave  offend  them  let  him  be  whipped  by  his  master  before 
him  he  has  offended ;  and  if  the  master  has  consented  to  the 
outrage,  let  him  pay  twenty  thousand  pieces  to  the  exchequer, 
and  let  his  slave  remain  in  pledge  till  the  whole  sum  be 
delivered.  We  order  to  be  paid  to  the  said  professors 
their  salaries;  and  as  they  must  not  be  charged  with 
onerous  functions,  we  allow  them  to  have  the  honores  confer, 
red  upon  them  when  they  desire,  but  we  do  not  oblige  them 
to  it."1 

2.  Constantinus  Augustus  to  the  people  (in  133). — "Con- 
firming the  good  deeds  of  our  divine  predecessors,  we  order 
that  physicians  and  professors  of  letters,  as  well  as  their  wives 
and  children,  be  exempt  from  all  public  functions  and  charges ; 
that  they  be  not  included  in  the  service  of  the  militia,  nor 
obliged  to  receive  guests,  or  to  acquit  themselves  of  any 
charge,  to  the  end  that  they  may  have  more  facility  to  instruct 
many  people  in  the  liberal  studies  and  the  above-mentioned 
professions."2 

3.  Gratianus  Augustus  to  Antonius,  pretorian  prefect  of 
the  Gauls  (in  376). — "  In  the  heart  of  the  great  cities  which, 
in  all  the  diocese  confided  to  your  Magnificence,  flourish 
with  illustrious  masters,  let  the  best  preside  over  the  edu- 
cation of  youth  (we  mean  the  rhetoricians  and  grammarians 
in  the  Attic  and  Roman  tongues),  let  the  orators  receive  from 
the  exchequer  twenty-four  rations;3  let  the  less  consider- 
able number  of  twelve  rations  be,  according  to  usage,  ac- 
corded to  Greek  and  Latin  grammarians.  And  to  the  end 
that  the  cities  which  enjoy  metropolitan  rights  may  select 
famous  professors,  and  as  we  do  not  think  that  each  city 
should  be  left  free  to  pay  its  rhetoricians  and  masters  ac- 
cording to  its  inclination,  for  the  illustrious  city  of  Treves 
we  wish  to  do  something  more ;  accordingly,  let  thirty  rations 
be  there  granted  to  the  rhetoricians,  twenty  to  the  Latin 
grammarian,  and  twelve  to  the  Greek  grammarian,  if  a  ca- 
pable one  can  be  found."4 

Valentinian,  Honorius,  Theodosius  II.  issued  many  similar 
decrees.    After  the  Empire  was  divided  among  many  masters, 


'  Cod.  Theod.,  1.  III.,  tit.  3, 1.  i.  2  Ibid.  1.  3. 

3  Annona,  a  certain  measure  of  wheat,  oil,  and  other  provisions, 
probably  what  was  necessary  for  the  daily  consumption  of  a  single  per« 

•Oil,  !]pipt)iriov. 

*  Cod.  Theod.,  XIII.,  tit.  3,  b.  11. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  f!J 

each  of  them  concerned  himself  rather  more  about  the  pros- 
perity of  his  states  and  the  public  establishments  which  were 
in  them.  Thence  arose  a  momentary  amelioration,  of  which 
the  schools  felt  the  effects,  particularly  those  of  Gaul,  under 
the  administration  of  Constantius  Clorus,  of  Julian,  and  of 
Gratian. 

By  the  side  of  the  schools  were,  in  general,  placed  other 
analogous  establishments.  Thus,  at  Treves  there  was  a  grand 
library  of  the  imperial  palace,  concerning  which  no  special 
information  has  reached  us,  but  of  which  we  may  judge  by  the 
details  which  have  reached  us  concerning  that  of  Constan- 
tinople. This  last  had  a  librarian  and  seven  scribes  constantly 
occupied — four  for  Greek,  and  three  for  Latin.  They  copied 
both  ancient  works  and  new  works.  It  is  probable  that  the 
same  institution  existed  at  Treves,  and  in  the  great  towns  of 
Gaul. 

Civil  society,  then,  was  provided  with  means  of  instruction 
and  intellectual  development.  It  was  not  the  same  with 
religious  society.  It  had  at  this  epoch  no  institution  espe- 
cially devoted  to  teaching ;  it  did  not  receive  from  the  state 
any  aid  to  this  particular  aim.  Christians,  as  well  as  others, 
could  frequent  the  public  schools  ;  but  most  of  the  professors 
were  still  pagans,  or  indifferent  in  religious  matters,  and,  in 
their  indifference,  had  sufficient  ill-will  towards  the  new 
religion.  They  therefore  attracted  very  few  Christians. 
The  sciences  which  they  taught,  grammar  and  rhetoric,  pagan 
by  origin,  dominated  by  the  ancient  pagan  mind,  had  besides 
but  little  interest  for  Christianity.  Lastly,  it  was  for  a  long 
time  in  the  inferior  classes,  among  the  people,  that  Chris- 
tianity was  propagated,  especially  in  the  Gauls,  and  it  was 
the  superior  classes  which  followed  the  great  schools.  More- 
over, it  was  hardly  until  the  commencement  of  the  fourth 
century  that  the  Christians  appeared  there,  and  then  but  few 
in  number. 

No  other  source  of  study  was  open  to  them.  The  establish- 
ments which,  a  little  afterwards,  became,  in  the  Christian 
church,  the  refuge  and  sanctuary  of  instruction,  the  monas- 
teries, were  hardly  commenced  in  the  Gauls.  It  was  only  after 
the  year  360  that  the  two  first  were  founded  by  St.  Martin — 
one  at  Liguge,  near  Poitiers,  the  other  at  Marmoutiers,  neat 
Tours ;  and  they  were  devoted  rather  to  religious  contemplation 
than  to  teaching. 

Any  great  school,  any  special  institution  devoted  to  the 


90  HISTORY    OF 

service  and  to  the  progress  of  intellect,  was  at  that  time, 
therefore,  wanting  to  the  Christians ;  they  had  only  their  own 
ideas,  the  internal  and  personal  movement  of  their  thought 
It  was  necessary  that  they  should  draw  everything  from 
themselves ;  their  doctrines,  and  the  empire  of  their  doctrines 
over  the  will — the  desire  which  they  had  to  propagate  them- 
selves, to  take  possession  of  the  world — that  was  their  whde 
power. 

Still,  the  activity  and  intellectual  strength  of  the  two  soci- 
eties were  prodigiously  unequal.  With  its  institutions,  its 
professors,  its  privileges,  the  one  was  nothing  and  did  nothing 
— with  its  single  ideas,  the  other  incessantly  labored  and 
seized  everything. 

All  things,  in  the  fifth  century,  attest  the  decay  of  the  civil 
schools.  The  contemporaneous  writers,  Sidonius  Apollinaris 
and  Mamertius  Claudianus,  for  example,  deplore  it  in  every 
page,  saying  that  the  young  men  no  longer  studied,  that  pro- 
fessors were  without  pupils,  that  science  languished  and  was 
being  lost.  They  attempted,  by  a  multitude  of  petty  expedients, 
to  escape  the  necessity  of  long  and  vigorous  studies.  This  was 
a  time  of  abbreviators  of  history,  philosophy,  grammar,  and 
rhetoric  ;  and  they  evidently  proposed  to  themselves  not  to 
propagate  instruction  in  the  classes  who  would  not  study,  but 
to  spare  the  labor  of  science  to  those  who  could,  but  would  not, 
devote  themselves  to  it.  It  was  especially  the  young  men  of 
the  superior  classes  who  frequented  the  schools  ;  but  these 
classes,  as  has  been  seen,  were  in  rapid  dissolution.  The 
schools  fell  with  them ;  tne  institutions  still  existed,  but  they 
were  void — the  soul  had  quitted  the  body. 

The  intellectual  aspect  of  Christian  society  was  very  dif- 
ferent. Gaul,  in  the  fifth  century,  was  under  the  influence 
of  three  spiritual  chiefs,  of  whom  none  lived  there  :  Saint 
Jerome1  residing  at  Bethlehem,  Saint  Augustin2  at  Hippo, 
Saint  Paulin3  at  Nola :  the  latter  only  was  a  Gaul  by  birth. 
They  truly  governed  Gaulish  Christianity ;  it  was  to  them 
that  it  addressed  itself  on  all  occasions,  to  receive  ideas,  solu- 
tions, councils.  Examples  abound.  A  priest,  born  at  the  foot 
of  the  Pyrenees,  and  who  was  called  Vigilantius,  travelled  to 
Palestine.  He  there  saw  Saint  Jerome,  and  engaged  with  him 
ill  controversy  concerning  some  questions  of  ecclesiastical 


»  Born  in  331,  died  in  420.  3  Born  in  354,  died  in  430 

»  Born  in  354,  died  in  431. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  9i 

doctrine  or  discipline.  Upon  his  return  to  the  Gauls,  he  wrote 
concerning  what  he  regarded  as  abuses.  He  attacked  the 
worship  of  martyrs,  their  relics,  the  miracles  worked  at  their 
tombs,  frequent  fasts,  austerities,  even  celibacy.  Scarcely  was 
his  work  published,  than  a  priest  named  Reparius,  who  lived 
in  his  neighborhood,  probably  in  Dauphiny  or  Savoy,  ac- 
quainted Saint  Jerome  with  it,  giving  hirn  an  account  at  largo 
of  the  contents  of  the  book,  and  of  its  danger,  as  he  said. 
Saint  Jerome  immediately  answered  Reparius,  and  his  answer 
is  a  first  refutation,  which  promises  a  second  more  in  detail. 
Reparius  and  another  neighboring  priest,  Didier,  immediately 
sent  to  Bethlehem  by  a  third  priest,  Sisinnius,  the  writings  of 
Vigilantius ;  and  in  less  than  two  years  after  the  commence- 
ment of  the  contest,  Saint  Jerome  sent  into  the  Gauls  a  com- 
plete refutation,  which  rapidly  spread  there.  The  same  fact 
took  place  almost  at  the  same  moment  between  Gaul  and  St. 
Augustin,  upon  the  subject  of  the  heresy  of  Pelagius  con- 
cerning free-will  and  grace ;  there  was  the  same  care  on  the 
part  of  the  Gaulish  priests  to  inform  the  grand  bishop  of 
everything;  the  same  activity  on  his  part  to  answer  their 
questions,  to  remove  their  doubts,  to  sustain,  to  direct  their 
faith.  Every  heresy  which  threatened,  every  question  which 
arose,  became,  between  the  Gauls  on  one  side,  and  Hippo, 
Bethlehem,  and  Nola  on  the  other,  the  occasion  of  a  long  and 
rapid  succession  of  letters,  messages,  journeys,  pamphlets. 
It  was  not  even  necessary  that  a  great  question  should  arise, 
that  general  and  pressing  religious  interest  should  be  involved. 
Simple  Christians,  and  women,  were  pre-occupied  with  certain 
ideas,  certain  scruples ;  light  was  wanting  to  them ;  they  had 
recourse  to  the  same  doctors,  the  same  remedies.  A  woman 
of  Bayeux,  Hedibie,  and  at  the  same  time  a  woman  of  Cahors, 
Algasie,  drew  up,  in  order  to  address  them  to  Saint  Jerome, 
the  one  twelve,  the  other  eleven  questions  concerning  philo- 
sophical, religious,  historical  matters :  they  asked  him  the 
explanation  of  certain  passages  of  the  Holy  Scriptures;  they 
wished  to  know  from  him  what  were  the  conditions  of  moral 
perfection,  or  what  conduct  should  be  pursued  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances of  life.  In  a  word,  they  consulted  him  as  a  family 
spiritual  director  ;  and  a  priest  named  Apodemus  set  out  from 
the  heart  of  Brittany,  charged  to  carry  these  letters  into  the 
neart  of  Palestine,  and  to  bring  back  the  answers.  The  sarm 
activity,  the  same  rapidity  of  circulation  reigned  in  the  interior 
of  Gaulish  Christianity.     Saint  Sulpicius  Severus,  the  com- 


U2  HISTORY    OF 

panion  and  friend  of  Saint  Martin  of  Tours,  wrote  a  Life  of 
that  Saint  while  still  living.  It  spread  everywhere,  in  Gaul, 
in  Spain,  and  in  Italy ;  copies  of  it  were  sold  in  all  the  great 
towns ;  bishops  sent  for  it  with  eagerness.  Whenever  a  reli- 
gious desire,  doubt,  or  difficulty  was  manifested,  doctors  labor- 
ed, priests  travelled,  writings  circulated.  And  this  was  no 
easy  thing,  this  quick  and  vast  correspondence.  Physical 
means  were  wanting ;  the  roads  were  few  and  perilous ;  ques- 
tions had  far  to  be  carried,  and  long  to  wait  for  an  answer ; 
active  zeal — immovable,  inexhaustible  patience — was  neces- 
sary ;  lastly,  that  perseverance  in  moral  wants  was  necessary 
which  at  all  times  is  a  rare  virtue,  and  which  can  alone  supply 
the  imperfection  of  institutions. 

Nevertheless,  institutions  began  to  rise,  and  to  be  regulated 
among  the  Christians  of  Gaul.  The  foundation  of  the  greater 
portion  of  the  large  monasteries  of  the  southern  provinces 
belongs  to  the  first  half  of  the  fifth  century.  That  of  Saint 
Faustin  at  Nimes,  and  another  in  his  diocese,  has  been 
attributed  to  Saint  Castor,  bishop  of  Apt,  about  422.  Abou' 
the  same  time,  Cassienus  founded  at  Marseilles  that  of  Saim 
Victor ;  Saint  Honoratus  and  Saint  Caprais  that  of  Lerins, 
the  most  celebrated  of  the  age,  in  one  of  the  isles  of  Hyeres  ; 
rather  later  arose  that  of  Condat  or  Saint  Claude  in  Franche- 
Comte,  that  of  Grigny  in  the  diocese  of  Vienne,  and  many 
others  of  less  importance.  The  primitive  character  of  the 
Gaulish  monasteries  was  entirely  different  from  that  of  the 
eastern  monasteries.  In  the  east,  the  monasteries  were  chiefly 
for  the  purposes  of  solitude  and  contemplation ;  the  men  who 
retired  into  the  Thebaid  desired  to  escape  pleasures,  tempta- 
tions, and  the  corruption  of  civil  society  ;  they  wished  to  aban- 
don themselves,  far  from  social  intercourse,  to  the  transports 
of  their  imagination,  and  to  the  rigors  of  their  conscience.  It 
was  not  until  a  later  period  that  they  drew  near  each  other 
in  places  where  at  first  they  had  been  dispersed,  and  anchorites 
or  solitaries  became  cenobites,  Koivofiiol,  living  in  common.  In 
the  west,  despite  the  imitation  of  the  east,  monasteries  had  a 
different  origin ;  they  began  with  life,  in  common  with  the 
desire,  not  of  isolation,  but  of  union.  Civil  society  was  a  prey 
to  all  kinds  of  disorders ;  national,  provincial,  or  municipal,  it 
was  dissolving  on  all  sides  ;  a  centre  and  an  asylum  was  en- 
tirely wanting  to  men  who  wished  to  discuss,  exercise  them- 
selves, live  together ;  they  found  one  in  the  monasteries  ;  thus 
monastic  life,  In  its  rise,  had  neither  the  contemplative  nor 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  93 

solitary  character ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  highiy  social  and 
active ;  it  kindled  a  focus  of  intellectual  development ;  it 
served  as  the  instrument  of  fermentation  and  propagation  of 
ideas.  The  monasteries  of  the  south  of  Gaul  were  philoso- 
phical schools  of  Christianity ;  it  was  there  that  intellectual 
men  meditated,  discussed,  taught ;  it  was  from  thence  that 
new  ideas,  daring  thoughts,  heresies,  were  sent  forth.  It  was 
in  the  abbeys  of  Saint  Victor  and  of  Lerins  that  all  the  great 
questions  of  free-will,  predestination,  grace,  original  sin,  were 
the  most  warmly  agitated,  and  where  the  Pelagian  opinions, 
for  fifty  years,  found  the  greatest  nourishment  and  support. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  intellectual  state  of  religious  society, 
and  that  of  civil  society,  cannot  be  compared  ;  on  one  side, 
all  is  decay,  languor,  inertia ;  on  the  other,  all  is  movement, 
eagerness,  ambition,  progress.  What  are  the  causes  of  such 
a  contrast  ?  It  is  necessary  to  know  from  whence  so  striking 
a  difference  arose,  how  it  continued,  why  each  day  it  was 
aggravated :  by  this  only  shall  we  arrive  at  a  full  knowledge 
and  comprehension  of  their  moral  state. 

There  were,  I  believe,  two  great  causes  for  the  fact  which 
I  have  just  described  :  1st.  the  very  nature  of  the  subjects, 
questions,  intellectual  labors  with  which  the  two  societies 
occupied  themselves :  2d.  the  very  unequal  freedom  of  minds 
in  one  and  the  other. 

Civil  literature,  if  I  may,  use  the  expression,  presents  at 
this  epoch  in  Gaul  only  four  kinds  of  men  and  of  works : 
grammarians,  rhetoricians,  chroniclers,  and  poets  ;  poets 
not  on  a  large  scale,  but  on  a  small  one,  makers  of  epithala- 
miums,  inscriptions,  descriptions,  idyls,  eclogues.  These  are 
the  subjec/s  upon  which  what  remained  of  the  Roman  mind 
exercised  itself. 

Christian  literature  was  entirely  different.  It  abounded  in 
philosophers,  politicians,  and  orators  ;  it  agitated  the  most  im- 
portant questions,  the  most  pressing  interests.  I  shall  now 
place  before  you,  always  taking  heed  to  confine  myself  to 
Gaul,  some  proper  names  and  some  titles,  a  comparative  view 
of  the  principal  writers  and  works  of  the  two  literatures.  You 
yourselves  will  deduce  the  consequences. 

I  do  not  here  pretend  to  give  a  biographical  or  literary 
enumeration,  however  far  from  complete.  I  only  point  out 
the  most  eminent  names  and  facts. 

Among  the  grammarians  with  whom  civil  literaturo  was 
crowded,  I  shall  name,  1st.  Agroetius  or  Agritius,  professor 

19 


94  HISTORY    OF 

at  Bordeaux  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  by  whom 
we  have  a  remaining  treatise,  or  fragment  of  a  treatise,  on 
the  property  and  varieties  of  the  Latin  tongue  ;  Latin  syno- 
nymes,  for  example,  temperantia,  temperatio  and  temperies ; 
•percussus  and  perculsus  ;  the  author  rests  upon  examples  drawn 
from  the  best  authors — Cicero,  Horace,  Terence,  Livy,  &c. — 
for  the  distinctions  which  he  establishes.  2d.  Urbicus,  also 
professor  at  Bordeaux,  celebrated  chiefly  for  his  profound 
knowledge  of  the  Greek  language  and  literature.  3d.  Ursulus 
and  Harmonius,  professors  at  Treves.  Harmonius  collected 
the  poems  of  Homer,  adding  thereto  notes  on  false  readings, 
interpretations,  &c. 

By  the  side  of  the  grammarians  are  the  rhetoricians,  whose 
business  was  not  only  with  teaching  eloquence,  but  with 
writing  discourses,  panegyrics  on  all  the  chief  circumstances 
of  life,  upon  the  occasion  of  fetes,  civil  solemnities,  the  death 
or  accession  of  an  emperor,  &c.  Twelve  of  these  bravuras 
of  vain  eloquence  have  been  specially  preserved  and  collected. 
The  four  principal  panegyrists  are — first,  Claudius  Mamertinus, 
author  of  an  eulogy  on  the  emperor  Maximian,  delivered  at 
Treves,  the  20th  of  April,  292,  the  day  on  which  the  foundation 
of  Rome  was  celebrated ;  secondly,  Eumenius,  professor  of 
eloquence  at  Autun,  author  of  four  discourses  delivered  from 
297  to  31 1,  in  the  presence  and  in  honor  of  Constantius  Chlorus, 
and  of  Constantine  ;  thirdly,  Naparius,  professor  at  Bordeaux, 
author  of  a  panegyric  on  Constantine ;  fourthly,  Claudius 
Mamertinus,  perhaps  the  son  of  the  first,  author  of  a  discourse 
delivered  in  362  before  Julian. 

Among  the  Gaulish  and  pagan  chroniclers  of  this  epoch,  the 
most  distinguished  is  Eutropius,  who  wrote  his  abridgment  of 
Roman  history  about  the  year  370. 

I  might  extend  the  list  of  poets  at  pleasure,  but  it  will  not 
be  complained  of  that  I  only  name  three  of  them.  The 
mos.  fertile,  the  most  celebrated,  and  incontestably  the  most 
spiritual  and  elegant,  is  Ausonius,  who  was  born  at  Bordeaux 
about  309,  and  died  upon  one  of  his  estates  in  394,  after 
having  filled  the  highest  public  offices,  and  composed — first, 
one  hundred  and  forty  epigrams  ;  secondly,  thirty-eight  epi- 
taphs ;  thirdly,  twenty  idyls ;  fourthly,  twenty-four  epistles ; 
fifthly,  seventeen  descriptions  of  towns,  and  a  multitude  of 
small  poems  upon  such  subjects  as  the  professors  of  Bordeaux 
the  persons  and  incidents  of  his  family,  the  twelve  Cffisars 
the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece,  &c,  &c. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  9fl 

An  uncle  of  Ausonius,  named  Arborius,  of  Toulouse,  hat 
left  a  small  poem,  addressed  to  a  young  girl  too  finely  dressed 
Ad  virginem  nimis  cuttam. 

A  poet  of  Poitiers,  Rutilius  Numatianus,  who  lived  foi 
some  time  at  Rome,  and  who  returned  to  his  country  about 
the  year  416,  upon  his  return  wrote  a  poem  entitled  Itinera^ 
Hum,  or  de  Reditu ;  a  curious  work  enough  for  details  of 
places,  manners,  and  for  the  anger  of  the  poet  against  the 
invasion  of  society  by  the  Jews  and  the  monks.  He  was 
evidently  a  pagan. 

I  pass  to  the  Gaulish  Christian  society  at  the  same  epoch. 

The  first  name  that  I  meet  with  is  that  of  Saint  Ambrose ; 
although  he  passed  his  life  in  Italy,  I  reckon  him  as  a  Gaul, 
for  he  was  born  at  Treves,  about  the  year  340.  His  works 
have  been  collected  in  two  volumes  folio.  They  contain 
thirty-six  different  works — religious  treatises,  commentaries 
upon  the  Bible,  discourses,  letters,  hymns,  &c.  The  most 
extensive,  and  also  the  most  curious,  is  entitled  De  Officiis 
Ministrorum  (concerning  the  duties  of  ministers  of  the 
church). 

At  a  future  period  I  shall,  perhaps,  return  to  this  work  in 
detail ;  at  present  I  only  wish  to  explain  its  character.  You 
would  be  tempted  to  believe,  from  the  title,  that  it  was  a 
treatise  upon  the  particular  duties  of  priests,  and  on  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  should  acquit  themselves  of  their  duties. 
You  would  be  deceived  ;  it  is  a  complete  moral  treatise,  in 
which  the  author,  while  on  the  subject  of  priests,  passes  in 
review  all  human  duties ;  he  there  sets  down  and  resolves  a 
multitude  of  questions  of  practical  philosophy. 

By  the  side  of  Saint  Ambrose  I  shall  place  Saint  Pauiin, 
born,  like  him,  in  Gaul  (at  Bordeaux,  about  the  year  353), 
and  who  died,  like  him,  a  bishop,  in  Italy  (at  Nola,  in'  431). 
Many  of  his  works,  among  others  his  book  against  the  pagans, 
are  lost ;  all  that  remains  of  him  are  some  letters  and  poems  ; 
but  letters,  at  this  period,  had  a  very  different  importance) 
from  what  they  have  in  modern  times.  Literature,  properly 
so  called,  held  but  little  place  in  the  Christian  world  ;  men 
wrote  very  little  for  the  sake  of  writing ;  for  the  mere  pleas- 
ure  of  manifesting  their  ideas ;  some  event  broke  forth,  a 
question  arose,  and  a  book  was  often  produced  under  the  form 
of  a  letter  to  a  Christian,  to  a  friend,  to  a  church.  Politics, 
religion,  controversy,  spiritual  and  temporal  interests,  general 
and  special  councils — all  are  met  with  in  the  letters  of  this 


96  HISTORY    OF 

time,  and  they  are  among  the  number  of  its  most  curious 
monuments. 

I  have  already  named  Saint  Sulpicius  Severus,  of  Tou- 
louse1 (or  of  some  other  town  of  Aquitaine,  for  his  origin  is 
not  known  with  certainty),  and  his  Life  of  Saint  Martin,  of 
Tours.  He  moreover  wrote  a  Sacred  History,  one  of  the 
first  essays  at  ecclesiastical  history  attempted  in  the  west ;  it 
reaches  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  up  to  the  year  400, 
and  contains  many  important  facts  which  are  not  found 
elsewhere. 

Nearly  at  the  same  time,  or  rather  later,  the  monk  Cassie- 
nus,11 a  provincial  by  birth,  as  it  would  appear,  though  he 
lived  for  a  very  long  time  in  the  east,  published  at  Marseilles, 
at  the  request  of  Saint  Castor,  bishop  of  Apt,  his  Institutions 
and  his  Conferences,  works  written  for  the  purpose  of  making 
the  western  world  acquainted  with  the  origin,  principles, 
practices,  and  ideas  of  the  eastern  monks.  It  was  at  this 
period,  as  you  have  heard,  that  most  of  the  earlier  monaste- 
ries in  southern  Gaul  were  founded  by  the  co-operation  of 
Cassienus  himself;  so  that  these  books  of  his  were  prepared 
to  meet  an  actual  and  practical  want. 

It  recurs  to  me  that  before  Cassienus  I  should  have  men- 
tioned Saint  Hilary,  bishop  of  Poitiers,  one  of  the  most  active, 
most  upright,  and  most  eminent  chiefs  of  the  Gaulish  church, 
who  wrote  a  number  of  works,  all  of  them  of  limited  extent, 
but  all  highly  important  in  their  time.  They  are,  in  fact, 
for  the  most  part,  mere  pamphlets  upon  the  various  questions 
which  were  then  engaging  attention.  After  Christianity  had 
grown  beyond  its  infancy,  the  more  eminent  bishops  had  two 
parts  to  play  at  one  and  the  same  time-^-that  of  philosopher 
and  that  of  statesman.  They  possessed  the  empire  over 
ideas,  or,  at  all  events,  the  preponderating  influence  in  the 
intellectual  order ;  and  they  had  also  to  administer  the  tem- 
poral affairs  of  the  religious  society.  They  were  called  up- 
on concurrently  to  fulfil  two  missions — to  mediate  and  to  act, 
to  convince  and  to  govern.  Hence  the  prodigious  variety, 
and  hence  also  the  haste,  which  very  often  characterize  their 
writings.  These,  in  general,  were  works  got  up  altogether 
for  the  occasion — pamphlets  intended,  now  to  solve  a  question 
of  doctrine,  now  to  discuss  a  matter  of  business,  to  enlighten 


1  Born  about  355,  died  about  420. 

■  Born  about  360,  died  about  440.  3  Died  about  368. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  97 

a  soul,  or  oppose  a  civil  disorder,  to  answer  a  heresy,  or  to 
obtain  a  concession  from  the  government.  The  works  of 
Saint  Hilary  are  more  especially  impressed  with  this 
character. 

A  monk,  who  was  possibly  acquainted  with  Saint  Hilary, 
since  he  lived  for  some  time  with  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  Eva- 
grius,  wrote  two  dialogues,  entitled — the  one,  Conference 
between  Theophilus,  a  Christian,  and  Simon,  a  Jew — the  other, 
Conference  between  Zacheus,  a  Christian,  and  Apollonius,  a 
■philosopher — curious  monuments  of  the  manner  in  which  a 
Christian  monk  of  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  framed  in 
his  mind  the  question,  on  the,  one  hand,  between  Judaism  and 
Christianity;  and  on  the  other,  between  Christianity  and 
philosophy. 

A  little  later  than  this,  a  priest  of  Marseilles,  Salvienus,  a 
native  of  Treves,  wrote  his  treatise  On  Avarice,  a  treatise  on 
religious  morality,  and  his  book,  which  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, De  Gubernatione  Dei,  a  work  remarkable  both  as  a 
picture  of  the  social  state  and  manners  of  the  period,  and  as 
an  attempt  to  acquit  Providence  from  any  share  in  the  mise- 
ries of  the  world,  the  blame  of  which  he  entirely  throws 
upon  mankind  themselves. 

The  Pelagian  schism  gave  rise  to  a  vast  number  of  works, 
among  which,  however,  I  will  only  mention  those  of  Saint 
Prosper  of  Aquitaine,  and  especially  his  poem,  Against  In- 
grates,  one  of  the  happiest  efforts  of  philosophical  poetry  that 
ever  emanated  from  the  bosom  of  Christianity.  His  Chronicle, 
which  extends  from  the  origin  of  the  world  to  the  year  455,  is 
not  without  importance. 

While  the  question  of  free  will  and  of  grace  was  agitating 
the  whole  church,  and  more  especially  that  of  Gaul,  that  of 
the  immateriality  of  the  soul  was  being  more  quietly  discussed 
in  the  Narbonnese,  between  Faustus,1  bishop  of  Riez,  who 
maintained  that  the  soul  is  material,  and  Mamertius  Claudie- 
nus,'  priest  of  Vienne,  and  brother  of  the  bishop  Saint  Ma- 
mertius, who  defended  the  contrary  opinion.  The  letter  in 
which  Faustus  sets  forth  his  views,  and  the  treatise  of  Ma- 
mertius Claudienus,  entitled  On  the  Nature  of  the  Soul,  are 
amongst  the  most  curious  monuments  of  the  state  of  the  human 
mind  in  the  fifth  century,  and  I  therefore  propose  to  make 
you  acquainted  with  them  in  detail  at  a  future  period. 

'  Died  in  490.  *  Died  about  473. 


98  HISTORY    OF 

Of  the  Christian  literature  of  this  period,  I  will  cite  I  ut  on« 
more  name,  that  of  Gennadius,  priest  at  Marseilles,  who,  in 
his  work  entitled,  Treatise  on  Illustrious  Men,  or  Ecclesiasti- 
cal Authors,  from  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century  to  the  end  of 
the  fifth,  has  given  us  more  information  on  the  literary  history 
of  the  period  than  we  find  anywhere  else.  When  you  com- 
pare these  two  lists,  dry  and  incomplete  as  they  are,  of  authors 
and  of  works,  do  not  the  names,  the  titles  alone,  explain  the 
difference  in  the  intellectual  state  of  the  two  societies  ?  The 
Christian  writers  address  themselves  at  once  to  the  highest 
interests  of  thought  and  of  life ;  they  are  active  and  potent 
at  once  in  the  domain  of  intellect,  and  in  that  of  reality  ;  their 
activity  is  rational,  and  their  philosophy  popular ;  they  treat 
of  things  which  alike  stir  up  the  soul  of  the  anchorite  in  his 
solitude,  and  of  nations  in  their  cities.  The  civil  literature, 
on  the  contrary,  has  no  reference  to  questions  either  of  prin- 
ciple or  of  passing  events,  to  either  the  moral  wants  or  the 
household  sentiments  of  the  masses  ;  it  is  entirely  a  literature 
of  convention  and  luxury,  of  coteries  and  of  schools,  wholly 
and  solely  devoted,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  subjects 
which  engage  its  attention,  to  the  passing  entertainment  of 
the  nobles  and  the  wits. 

This  is  not  all ;  we  find  another  and  a  far  different  cause 
for  the  diversity  of  the  moral  condition  of  the  two  societies ; 
liberty,  that  is  to  say,  liberty  of  mind,  was  entirely  wanting 
to  the  one,  while  in  the  other  it  was  real  and  powerful.    * 

Indeed,  it  was  impossible  but  that  liberty  should  be  wholly 
wanting  to  the  civil  literature  ;  that  literature  belonged  to 
civil  society,  to  the  old  Roman  world  ;  it  was  its  image,  its 
amusement ;  it  bore  all  its  characteristics, — decay,  sterility, 
fertility,  servility.  The  very  nature,  however,  of  the  subjects 
upon  which  it  exercised  itself,  rendered  the  presence  of  these 
characteristics  very  endurable.  It  kept  entirely  apart  from 
all  the  great  moral  questions,  from  all  the  real  interests  of 
life,  that  is  to  say,  from  every  career  in  which  freedom  of 
mind  is  indispensable.  Grammar,  rhetoric,  minor  poetry, 
very  readily  adapt  themselves  to  servitude.  To  compile  Latin 
synonymes  like  Agracius — to  criticise,  like  Arborius,  a  girl 
over  dressed — or  even  to  celebrate,  like  Ausonius,  the  beauties 
of  the  Moselle,  required  neither  freedom  nor,  in  truth,  even 
movement  of  mind.  This  subordinate  literature  has  more 
than  once  prospered  extremely  well  under  despotism,  and  ia 
the  decline  of  society. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  99 

In  the  very  heart  of  the  schools,  there  was  an  entire  absence 
of  liberty  ;  the  whole  of  the  professors  were  removable  at 
any  time.  The  emperor  had  full  power,  not  only  to  transfer 
them  from  one  town  to  another,  but  to  cancel  their  appoint, 
ment  whenever  he  thought  fit.  Moreover,  in  a  great  many 
of  the  Gaulish  towns,  the  people  themselves  were  against 
them,  for  the  people  were  Christians,  at  least  in  a  great 
majority,  and  as  such  had  a  distaste  for  schools  which  were 
altogether  pagan  in  origin  and  intention.  The  professors, 
accordingly,  were  regarded  with  hostility,  and  often  mal- 
treated ;  they  were,  in  fact,  quite  unsupported  except  by  the 
remnant  of  the  higher  classes,  and  by  the  imperial  authority, 
which  still  maintained  order,  and  which  having  heretofore 
often  persecuted  the  Christians  solely  in  compliance  with  the 
clamorous  demands  of  the  people,  now,  in  the  fourth  century, 
protected  the  pagans  against  the  people,  either  from  an  abstract 
desire  to  preserve  order,  from  deference  to  the  wishes  of  dis- 
tinguished citizens,  themselves  pagans  or  indifferent  about 
the  matter,  or  out  of  that  respect  for  old  institutions,  old 
principles,  which  an  old  government  ever  retains.  You  may 
thus  readily  perceive,  in  how  dependent,  powerless,  pre- 
carious, painful  a  position  the  professors  were  placed.  That 
of  the  students  was  scarcely  any  better.  They  were  the 
object  of  a  multitude  of  inquisitorial,  vexatious,  police  regula. 
tions,  against  which  they  had  no  practical  security.  I  will 
read  to  you  an  edict  of  Valentinian,  which  will  give  you  a 
clear  idea  of  their  situation  ;  the  edict  itself  only  refers  to  the 
students  of  the  school  at  Rome,  but  the  other  schools  of  the 
empire  were  conducted  upon  analogous  rules  and  principles : 

"  Valentinian,  Valerius,  and  Gratian,  to  Olybrius,  Prefect  of 
Rome  (370). 

"  1.  All  persons  coming  to  study  at  Rome,  must  imme- 
diately upon  their  arrival  lay  before  the  master  of  the  census1 
letters  from  the  provincial  governors  who  have  given  them 
permission  to  travel,  setting  forth  their  place  of  abode,  their 
age,  their  name,  condition,  and  description.  2.  They  must  de- 
clare, also,  at  the  same  time,  what  studies  they  intend  more 
especially  to  pursue.    3.  They  must  let  the  census  office  know, 


•  A  magistrate,  some  of  whose  functions  were  analogous  with  those 
*f  otir  prefect  of  police 


100  HISTORY  OF 

from  time  to  time,  their  place  of  abode  in  Rome,  so  that  tha 
officers  of  that  department  may  see  to  their  following  out  the 
studies  which  they  have  indicated  as  the  object  of  their  pur- 
suit. 4.  The  aforesaid  officers  are  charged  to  take  care  that 
the  students  conduct  themselves  at  the  lectures  in  a  becoming 
manner,  avoiding  all  occasion  of  gaining  an  ill  reputation,  and 
taking  no  part  in  any  of  those  private  associations  among 
themselves,  which  we  regard  as  very  little  short  of  crimes ; 
they  are  not  to  visit  the  theatre  too  frequently,  not  to  indulge 
in  overfeasting  and  revelry.  Any  student  Who  shall  forget 
the  dignified  demeanor  due  from  him  who  pursues  the  liberal 
arts,  shall  be  publicly  beaten  with  rods,  put  on  board  some 
vessel,  and,  ignominiously  expelled  the  city,  be  sent  back 
whence  he  came.  They  who  apply  themselves  assiduously  to 
their  studies,  may  remain  in  Rome  until  their  twentieth  year ; 
should  they  then  omit  to  return  home  of  their  own  accord,  let 
the  prefect  have  them  removed,  whether  they  will  or  no. 
And  that  these  regulations  may  be  properly  attended  to,  your 
High  Sincerity  will  forthwith  direct  the  chief  officers  of  the 
census  department  to  have  drawn  up,  every  month,  a  report 
upon  the  said  students,  setting  forth  how  many  there  are,  who 
they  are,  whence  they  came,  their  general  character,  and  who 
of  them,  their  time  in  Rome  being  completed,  have  to  be  sent 

back  to  Africa,  or  other  provinces Let  a  copy  of  these 

reports  be  annually  sent  to  us,  that,  thereby  made  acquainted 
with  the  merits  and  acquirements  of  the  students,  we  may 
judge  how  far  any  of  them  are  necessary  or  desirable  for  our 
service."1 

Some  of  these  precautions  may  very  possibly  have  been,  in 
certain  cases,  necessary  and  proper  ;  but  it  is  at  the  same  time 
quite  clear  that  in  the  system  of  which  they  were  a  leading,  a 
dominant  feature,  in  the  schools  of  whose  discipline  they  formed 
the  basis,  there  was  no  liberty. 

In  Christian  literature,  on  the  contrary,  liberty  manifests 
itself  in  full  luxuriance  ;  the  activity  of  mind,  the  diversity  of 
opinion  publicly  declared,  are  of  themselves  sufficient  to  prove 
the  fact  of  this  liberty.  The  human  mind  does  not  spread  its 
wings  so  broadly,  so  energetically,  when  it  is  loaded  with 
irons.  Liberty,  besides,  was  inherent  in  the  intellectual  situ- 
ation of  the  church :  she  was  laboring  at  the  formation  of  her 


1  Cod.  Theod.,  1.  xiv.,  t.  far.,  1  i. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  101 

doctrines,  which,  as  to  a  great  number  of  points,  she  had  not 
as  yet  promulgated  or  fixed.  From  time  to  time,  some  ques- 
tion was  raised  by  an  event,  by  a  polemical  writing  ;  it  was 
then  examined  and  discussed  by  the  chiefs  of  the  religious 
society ;  and  the  decision  formed,  the  belief  adopted,  the  dogma 
was  in  due  time  proclaimed.  It  is  evident  that,  in  such  a 
period  as  this,  there  must  exist  liberty,  precarious,  perhaps, 
and  transitory,  but  still  real,  and,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
practical. 

The  state  of  the  legislation  against  heresy  was  not  as  yet 
mortal  to  it ;  the  principle  of  persecution,  the  idea  that  truth 
had  a  right  to  govern  by  force,  occupied  men's  minds,  but  it 
did  not  yet  dominate  in  facts.  Civil  power  began  to  lend  a 
strong  hand  to  the  church  against  the  heretics,  and  to  be 
severe  against  them ;  they  were  exiled,  certain  functions  were 
interdicted  them,  they  were  despoiled  of  their  property ;  some 
even,  as  the  Priscillianists,  in  385,  were  condemned  to  death  : 
the  laws  of  the  emperors,  especially  those  of  Theodosius  the 
Great,  were  full  of  menaces  and  provisions  against  heresy  ;  the 
course  of  things,  in  short,  evidently  tended  to  tyranny  ;  civil 
power,  however,  still  hesitated  to  make  itself  the  instrument 
of  doctrines;  the  greatest  bishops,  Saint  Hilary,  Saint  Am- 
brose, Saint  Martin,  still  cried  out  against  all  capital  condem- 
nation of  heretics,  saying  that  the  church  had  no  right  to 
employ  other  than  spiritual  arms.  In  a  word,  although  the 
principle  of  persecution  was  in  progress,  and  in  very  threat- 
ening progress,  liberty  was  still  stronger :  a  dangerous  and 
tempestuous  liberty,  but  active  and  general ;  a  man  was  a 
heretic  at  his  peril ;  but  he  might  be  one  if  he  pleased  ;  and 
men  might  sustain,  they  did  sustain,  their  opinions,  for  a  long 
period,  with  energy,  with  publicity.  It  will  suffice  to  glance 
at  the  canons  of  the  councils  of  this  epoch  in  order  to  be  con- 
vinced that  liberty  was  still  great:  with  the  exception  of  two 
or  three  great  general  councils,  these  assemblies,  particularly 
in  Gaul,  scarcely  concerned  themselves  with  anything  more 
than  discipline  ;  questions  of  theory,  of  doctrine,  appeared 
there  rarely  and  only  upon  great  occasions;  it  was  more 
especially  the  government  of  the  church,  her  situation,  the 
rights  and  duties  of  priests,  that  they  tieated  of  and  decided 
upon  :  a  proof  that,  in  numerous  points  diversity  of  ideas  wai 
admitted  and  debate  still  open. 

Thus,  on  one  side,  the  very  nature  of  the  labors,  and  on 
the  other  the  situation  of  minds,  fully  ex»Ujft»*bfo«tellectual 

rVT"  Tr/C*  ER'S  C?L'EGE 
SA   Jk     AiBAHA.  CAL1FCRNIA 


102  HISTORY    OF 

superioiity  of  the  religious  society  over  the  civil  society; 
the  one  state  was  earnest  and  free,  the  other  servile  and 
frivolous  :  what  is  there  to  add  ? 

But  one  final  observation,  one,  however,  which  is  not  without 
importance,  and  which,  perhaps,  fully  explains  why  civil 
literature  was  on  the  point  of  death,  while  religious  literature 
lived  and  prospered  so  energetically. 

For  the  culture  of  mind,  for  the  sciences,  for  literature,  to 
prosper  by  themselves,  independently  of  all  near  and  direct 
interest,  happy  and  peaceable  times  are  requisite,  times  of 
contentment  and  good  fortune  for  men.  When  the  social 
state  becomes  difficult,  rude,  unhappy,  when  men  suffer  much 
and  long,  study  runs  a  great  risk  of  being  neglected  and 
of  declining.  The  taste  for  pure  truth,  the  appreciation  of  the 
beautiful,  apart  from  all  other  desire,  are  plants  as  delicate  as 
they  are  noble ;  they  must  have  a  pure  sky,  a  brilliant  sun,  a 
soft  atmosphere  ;  amid  storms  they  droop  the  head  and  fade. 
Intellectual  development,  the  labor  of  mind  to  attain  truth, 
will  stop  unless  placed  in  the  train,  and  under  the  shield,  of 
some  one  of  the  actual,  immediate,  powerful  interests  of  hu- 
manity. This  is  what  happened  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
empire :  study,  literature,  pure  intellectual  activity,  were 
unable  alone  to  resist  disasters,  sufferings,  universal  dis- 
couragement ;  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  be  attached 
to  popular  sentiments  and  interests  ;  that  they  should  cease 
to  appear  a  luxury,  and  should  become  a  need.  The  Christian 
religion  furnished  them  with  the  means  ;  by  uniting  with  it, 
philosophy  and  literature  were  saved  the  ruin  which  menaced 
them  ;  their  activity  had  then  practical,  direct  results  ;  they 
showed  an  application  to  direct  men  in  their  conduct,  towards 
their  welfare.  It  may  be  said  without  exaggeration  that 
the  human  mind  proscribed,  beaten  down  with  the  storm, 
took  refuge  in  the  asylum  of  churches  and  monasteries  ;  it 
supplicatingly  embraced  the  altars,  and  entreated  to  live 
under  their  shelter  and  in  their  service,  until  better  times 
permitted  it  to  re-apoear  in  the  world  and  to  breathe  the  free 
air. 

I  shall  not  go  any  further  into  this  comparison  of  the  moral 
state  of  the  two  societies  in  the  fifth  century  ;  we  know 
enough  of  it,  I  think,  to  understand  them  both  clearly.  It  is 
now  necessary  to  enter  deeper  into  the  examination  of  the 
religious  society,  alone  living  and  fertile  ;  it  is  necessary  to 
seek  to  discover  what  questions  occupied  it,  what  solutions 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  l\)3 

were  proposed  to  it,  what  controversies  were  powerful 
and  popular,  what  was  their  influence  upon  the  life  and 
actions  of  mankind.  This  will  be  the  subject  of  our  next 
lectures. 


J  04  HISTORY   OF 


FIFTH  LECTURE. 

Of  the  principal  questions  debated  in  Gaul  in  the  fifth  century — Of 
Pelagianism — Of  the  method  to  follow  in  its  history — Of  the  moral 
facts  which  gave  place  to  this  controversy :  1st,  of  human  liberty  ; 
2d,  of  the  impotency  of  liberty,  and  the  necessity  for  an  external 
succor  ;  3d,  of  the  influence  of  external  circumstances  upon  liberty ; 
4th,  of  the  moral  changes  which  happen  in  the  soul  without  man 
attributing  them  to  his  will — Of  the  questions  which  naturally  arose 
from  these  facts — Of  the  special  point  of  view  under  which  we 
should  consider  them  in  the  Christian  church  in  the  fifth  century 
— History  of  Pelagianism  at  Rome,  in  Africa,  in  the  East,  and  in 
Gaul — Pelagius — Celestius — Saint  Augustin — History  of  semi-Pela- 
gianism — Cassienus — Faustus — Saint  Prosper  of  Aquitaine — Of  pre- 
destination— Influence  and  general  results  of  this  controversy. 

In  the  last  lecture,  I  attempted  to  picture,  but  only  under 
its  general  features,  the  comparative  moral  state  of  civil  so- 
ciety and  of  religious  society  in  Gaul  at  the  fifth  century. 
Let  us  enter  deeper  into  the  examination  of  religious  society, 
the  only  one  which  furnishes  ample  matter  for  study  and 
reflection. 

The  principal  questions  which  occupied  the  Gaulish  Chris- 
tian society  in  the  fifth  century  were — 1st,  Pelagianism,  or 
the  heresy  of  Pelagius,  the  principal  opponent  of  which  was 
Saint  Augustin ;  2d,  the  nature  of  the  soul,  debated  in  the 
south  of  Gaul  between  bishop  Faustus  and  the  priest  Mamer- 
tius  Claudienus  ;  3d,  various  points  of  worship  and  of  disci- 
pline, rather  than  of  doctrine,  such  as  the  worship  of  the 
martyrs,  the  value  to  be  attached  to  fastings,  austerities, 
celibacy,  &c. ;  these,  as  you  have  seen,  were  the  objects  to 
which  Vigilantius  applied  his  writings ;  4th,  the  prolongation 
Df  the  struggle  of  Christianity  against  Paganism  and  Juda- 
ism, the  theses  of  the  two  dialogues  of  the  monk  Evagrius, 
between  the  Jew  Simon  and  the  Christian  Theophilus,  and  the 
Christian  Zacheus,  and  the  philosopher  Apollonius. 

Of  all  these  questions,  Pelagianism  was  by  far  the  most 
important :  it  was  the  great  intellectual  controversy  of  the 
church  in  the  fifth  century,  as  Arianism  had  been  in  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  103 

fourth.  It  is  with  its  history  that  we  are  now  about  tc  occupy 
ourselves. 

Every  one  is  aware  that  this  controversy  turned  upon  the 
question  of  free-will  and  of  grace,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  rela- 
tions between  the  liberty  of  man,  and  the  Divine  power,  of 
the  influence  of  God  upon  the  moral  activity  of  men. 

Before  proceeding  with  the  history  of  this  affair,  I  will  in- 
dicate the  method  upon  which  I  propose  to  proceed. 

The  mere  statement  of  the  question  will  show  you  that  it 
was  one  not  peculiar  either  to  the  fifth  century  or  to  Christi- 
anity, bat  that  it  is  a  universal  problem  common  to  all  times 
and  all  places,  and  which  all  religions,  all  systems  of  philo- 
sophy, have  propounded  to  themselves,  and  have  endeavored 
to  solve. 

It  has,  therefore,  manifest  reference  to  primitive,  universal, 
moral  facts,  facts  inherent  in  human  nature,  and  which  ob- 
servation may  discover  there.  I  will,  in  the  first  place,  seek 
out  these  facts ;  I  will  endeavor  to  distinguish  in  man  in 
general,  independently  of  all  considerations  of  time,  place,  or 
particular  creed,  the  natural  elements,  the  first  matter,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  Pelagian  controversy.  I  shall  bring  these  facts 
to  light,  without  adding  anything  thereto,  without  retrenching 
anything  therefrom,  without  discussing  them,  solely  applied 
to  prove  and  describe  them. 

I  shall  then  show  what  questions  naturally  flowed  from 
natural  facts,  what  difficulties,  what  controversies,  arose  out 
of  them,  independently  of  all  particular  circumstances  of  time, 
place,  or  social  state. 

This  done,  and,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  the  general 
theoretical  side  of  the  question  once  thoroughly  established, 
I  shall  determine  under  what  special  point  these  moral  facts 
should  be  considered  at  the  fifth  century,  by  the  defenders  of 
the  various  opinions  in  debate. 

Finally,  after  having  thus  explained  from  what  sources 
and  under  what  auspices  Pelagianism  was  born,  I  shall  recount 
its  history  ;  I  shall  attempt  to  follow,  in  their  relations  and 
their  progress,  the  principal  ideas  which  it  suscitated,  in  order 
properly  to  understand  what  was  the  state  of  mind  at  the 
moment  when  this  great  controversy  arose,  what  it  did  therein, 
and  at  what  point  it  left  it. 

I  must  request  your  most  scrupulous  attention,  especially 
in  th«  examination  of  the  moral  facts  to  which  the  question 
attaches  itself:  they  are  difficult  properly  to  understand,  to  ex- 


106  HISTORY    OF 

press  with  precision ;  I  should  wish  nothing  should  be  wanting 
to  them  in  clearness  and  certainty,  and  I  have  hardly  time  ta 
indicate  them  in  a  cursory  manner. 

The  first,  that  which  forms  the  foundation  of  the  whole 
quarrel,  is  liberty,  free-will,  the  human  will.  In  order  to 
understand  this  fact  exactly,  it  must  be  disengaged  from  all 
foreign  element,  and  strictly  reduced  to  itself.  It  is,  I  believe, 
for  want  of  this  care  that  it  has  been  so  often  but  ill  compre- 
hended ;  men  have  not  placed  themselves  in  front  of  the  fact 
of  liberty,  and  of  that  alone  ;  they  have  seen  and  described  it, 
so  to  speak,  mixed  up  with  other  facts  which  occupy  a  very 
close  position  to  it  in  moral  life,  but  do  not  the  less  essentially 
differ  from  it.  For  example,  they  have  made  human  liberty 
to  consist  in  the  power  to  deliberate  and  choose  between  mo- 
tives of  action :  the  deliberation  and  judgment  which  proceed 
therefrom  have  been  considered  as  the  essence  of  free-will. 
It  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  These  are  acts  of  intellect,  and  not 
of  liberty ;  it  is  before  the  intellect  that  the  different  motives 
of  action,  interests,  passions,  opinions,  &c,  appear :  the  in- 
tellect considers.,  compares,  estimates,  weighs,  and  finally  judges 
them.  This  is  a  preparatory  work,  which  precedes  the  act 
of  will,  but  does  not  in  any  way  constitute  it.  When  the  de- 
liberation has  taken  place,  when  man  has  taken  full  cognizance 
of  the  motives  which  presented  themselves  to  him,  and  of  their 
value,  then  comes  an  entirely  new  fact,  entirely  different,  the 
fact  of  liberty  ;  man  takes  a  resolution,  that  is  to  say,  com- 
mences a  series  of  facts  which  have  their  source  in  himself, 
of  which  he  looks  upon  himself  as  the  author,  which  arise 
because  he  wishes  it,  and  which  would  not  arise  unless  he 
wished  it,  which  would  be  different  if  he  desired  to  produce 
them  differently.  Remove  all  recollection  of  intellectual 
deliberation,  of  motives  known  and  appreciated ;  concentre 
your  thought  and  that  of  the  man  who  takes  a  resolution  at 
the  very  moment  that  it  occurs  to  him,  when  he  says:  "I  will, 
I  will  do  so,"  and  ask  yourself,  ask  him,  if  he  could  not  will 
and  do  otherwise.  Of  a  surety,  you  will  answer — he  will 
answer,  "  Yes."  Here  the  fact  of  liberty  is  shown  :  it 
resides  complete  in  the  resolution  which  man  takes  after 
deliberation :  it  is  the  resolution  which  is  the  proper  act  of 
man,  which  subsists  by  him,  and  by  him  alone ;  a  simple  act, 
independent  of  all  the  facts  which  precede  it,  or  surround  it ; 
Identical  in  the  most  diverse  circumstances ;  always  the  same; 
whatever  may  be  its  motives  and  its  results. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  107 

Man  sees  this  act  just  as  he  produces  it ;  he  knows  himself 
to  be  free,  he  is  conscious  of  his  liberty.  Tie  conscience  is 
that  faculty  which  man  possesses  of  contemplating  what  passes 
within  him,  of  being  present  at  his  own  existence,  of  being  as 
it  were  a  spectator  of  himself.  Whatever  may  be  the  facts 
which  are  accomplished  within  man,  it  is  by  the  fact  of  con- 
science that  they  are  shown  to  him ;  the  conscience  attests 
liberty,  the  same  as  sensation,  as  thought ;  man  sees,  knows 
himself  free,  as  he  sees,  as  he  knows  himself  thinking,  reflect- 
ing, judging.  People  have  often  attempted,  even  now  they 
attempt  to  establish,  between  these  various  facts,  some  sort  of 
inequality  of  clearness,  of  certainty  :  they  rise  against  whal 
they  call  the  assumption  of  introducing  the  facts  of  conscience, 
unknown  and  obscure  facts,  into  science ;  sensation,  percep- 
tion, say  they,  these  are  clear,  proved :  but  the  facts  of  con- 
science, where  are  they  ?  what  are  they  ?  I  do  not  think  there 
is  any  need  to  insist  long  on  this  point :  sensation,  perception, 
are  facts  of  conscience  as  well  as  liberty ;  man  sees  them  in  the 
same  manner,  with  the  same  degree  of  light,  and  of  certainty. 
He  may  lend  his  attention  to  certain  facts  of  conscience, 
rather  than  others,  and  forget  or  misunderstand  those  which 
he  regards  not :  the  opinion  to  which  I  have  this  moment 
made  allusion  is  proof  of  this :  but  when  he  observes  himself 
in  a  complete  manner,  when  he  is  present  without  losing  any 
part  of  it,  at  the  spectacle  of  his  internal  life,  he  has  little 
trouble  in  being  convinced  that  all  the  scenes  pass  upon  the 
same  stage,  and  are  known  to  him  on  the  same  principle  and 
in  the  same  manner. 

I  desire  that  the  fact  of  human  liberty,  thus  reduced  to  its 
proper  and  distinctive  nature,  should  remain  fully  present  to 
your  thought ;  for  its  confusion  with  other  facts,  bordering 
upon,  but  different  from  it,  was  one  of  the  chief  causes  of 
trouble  and  debate  in  the  great  controversy  with  which  we 
have  to  occupy  ourselves. 

A  second  fact,  equally  natural,  equally  universal,  played  a 
considerable  part  in  this  controversy. 

At  the  same  time  that  man  felt  himself  free,  that  he  saw 
in  himself  the  faculty  of  commencing,  by  his  will  alone,  a 
series  of  facts,  he  also  acknowledged  that  his  will  was  placed 
under  the  empire  of  a  certain  law  which,  according  to  the 
occasions  to  which  it  applied  itself,  took  different  names,  moral 
law,  reason,  good  sense,  &c.  He  is  free ;  but,  in  his  own  thought, 
his  freedom  is  not  arbitrary ;  he  may  use  it  in  a  senseless, 


108  HISTORY   OF 

unjust,  guilty  manner ;  and  each  time  that  he  uses  it,  a  certain 
rule  must  preside  at  it.  The  observation  of  this  rule  is  his 
duty,  the  task  of  his  liberty. 

He  will  soon  see  that  he  never  fully  acquits  himself  of  this 
task,  nor  acts  perfectly  according  to  reason,  moral  law ;  that, 
always  free,  that  is  to  say,  morally  capable  of  conforming 
himself  to  this  rule,  he,  in  fact,  does  not  accomplish  all  that 
he  ought,  or  even  all  that  he  can.  Upon  every  occasion,  when 
he  scrupulously  interrogates  himself,  and  sincerely  answers 
himself,  he  is  forced  to  say :  "  I  might  have  done  so  and  so, 
if  I  had  chosen  ;"  but  his  will  was  enervated,  backward  ;  it 
went  neither  to  the  end  of  its  duty,  nor  of  its  power. 

This  fact  is  evident,  one  of  which  all  may  give  witness  ; 
there  is  even  this  singularity,  that  the  feeling  of  this  weakness 
of  the  will  becomes  often  so  much  the  more  clear,  so  much 
the  more  pressing,  as  the  moral  man  is  developed  and  per- 
fected :  the  best  men,  that  is,  those  who  have  best  conformed 
their  will  to  reason,  to  morality,  have  often  been  the  most 
struck  with  their  insufficiency,  the  most  convinced  of  the  pro- 
found inequality  between  the  conduct  of  man  and  his  task, 
between  liberty  and  its  law. 

Hence  arises  a  sentiment  which  is  found  under  various 
forms,  in  all  men ;  the  feeling  of  the  necessity  of  an  external 
support,  of  a  fulcrum  for  the  human  will,  a  power  which  ma\ 
be  added  to  its  present  power,  and  sustain  it  at  need.  Man 
seeks  on  all  sides  to  discover  this  fulcrum,  this  aiding 
power ;  he  demands  it  in  the  encouragements  of  friendship,  in 
the  councils  of  the  wise,  in  the  example,  the  approbation  of 
those  like  himself;  in  the  fear  of  blame ;  there  is  no  one  but 
has  every  day,  in  his  own  conduct,  a  thousand  proofs  to  cite 
of  this  movement  of  the  soul,  eager  to  find  beyond  itself  an 
aid  to  its  liberty,  which  it  feels  at  once  to  be  real  and  insuffi- 
cient. And  as  the  visible  world,  the  human  society,  do  not 
always  answer  to  his  desire,  as  they  are  afflicted  with  the  same 
uusufficingness  which  is  seen  in  his  own  case,  the  soul  goes 
beyond  the  visible  world,  above  human  relations,  to  seek  this 
fulcrum  of  which  it  has  need :  the  religious  sentiment  de- 
velopes  itself;  man  addresses  himself  to  God,  and  invokes  his 
aid.  Prayer  is  the  most  elevated,  but  not  the  only  form, 
under  which  the  universal  sentiment  of  the  weakness  of  hu- 
man will,  this  recourse  to  an  external  and  allied  power,  is 
manifested. 

And  such  is  the  nature  of  man,  that  when  he  sincerely 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  109 

asks  this  support,  he  obtains  it,  that  his  merely  seeking  it  is 
almost  sufficient  to  secure  it.  Whosoever,  feeling  his  will 
weak,  sincerely  invokes  the  encouragement  of  a  friend,  the 
influence  of  wise  counsels,  the  support  of  public  opinion,  or 
addresses  himself  to  God  by  prayer,  soon  feels  his  will 
fortified,  sustained,  in  a  certain  measure,  and  for  a  certain 
time.  This  is  a  fact  of  daily  experience,  and  which  is  easy 
of  verification. 

Here  is  a  third  whose  importance  should  not  be  forgotten  : 
I  mean  the  influence  of  circumstances  independent  of  maw 
upon  the  human  will,  the  empire  of  the  external  world  upon 
liberty.  No  one  denies  the  fact,  but  it  is  necessary  to  estimate 
it  with  exactness,  for,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  it  is  generally 
ill-comprehended. 

I  just  now  distinguished  liberty  from  the  deliberation  which 
precedes  it,  and  which  is  accomplished  by  the  intellect.  Now 
the  circumstances  independent  of  man,  whatsoever  they  be, 
the  place,  the  time  when  the  man  was  born,  habits,  manners, 
education,  events,  influence  in  no  way  the  act  of  liberty, 
such  as  I  have  endeavored  to  describe  it ;  it  is  not  reached 
nor  modified  by  them ;  it  always  remains  identical  and  com- 
plete, whatever  the  motives  which  it  call  forth.  It  is  upon 
these  motives,  in  the  sphere  where  intellect  displays  itself, 
that  external  circumstances  exercise  and  exhaust  their  power. 
The  age,  the  country,  the  world,  in  the  heart  of  which  life 
passes  away,  infinitely  vary  the  elements  of  the  deliberation 
which  precedes  the  will :  in  consequence  of  this  variation, 
certain  facts,  certain  ideas,  certain  sentiments,  in  this  intel- 
lectual labor,  are  present  or  absent,  near  or  at  a  distance, 
powerful  or  weak ;  and  the  result  of  this  deliberation,  that  is 
to  say  the  judgment  formed  upon  the  motives,  is  greatly 
affected  by  it.  But  the  act  of  the  will  which  follows  it  remains 
essentially  the  same :  it  is  only  indirectly,  and  by  reason  of 
the  diversity  of  the  elements  introduced  into  the  deliberation, 
that  the  conduct  of  men  undergoes  this  influence  of  the 
external  world.  One  illustration,  I  hope,  will  make  me 
fully  understood.  In  accordance  with  the  customs  of  his 
tribe,  to  fulfil  what  he  regards  as  a  duty,  a  savage  reluctantly 
kills  his  aged  and  infirm  father:  a  European,  on  the  contrary, 
supports  his  parent,  tends  him,  devotes  himself  to  the  alleviation 
of  his  old  age  and  infirmities ;  nothing  assuredly  can  be  more 
different  than  the  ideas  which,  in  the  two  cases,  constitute  the 
groundwork  of  the  deliberation  which   precedes  the  action, 


110  HISTORY    Of 

and  the  results  which  accompany  it :  nothing  more  unequa, 
than  the  legitimacy,  the  moral  worth  of  the  two  actions  in 
themselves,  but  as  to  the  resolution,  the  free  and  personal 
act  of  the  European,  and  of  the  savage,  are  they  not  alike, 
if  accomplished  with  the  same  intention,  and  with  the  same 
degree  of  effort  ? 

Thus  the  influence  of  circumstances  independent  of  the 
will,  upon  the  motives  and  the  consequences  of  free  action,  is 
immense,  but  that  is  the  only  field  in  which  it  exercises  itself' 
the  lower  fact  placed  between  deliberation  and  exterior  action, 
the  fact  of  liberty,  remains  the  same,  and  accomplishes  itself 
in  like  manner  amidst  the  most  varying  elements. 

I  now  come  to  the  fourth  and  last  of  the  great  moral  facts, 
a  knowledge  of  which  is  indispensable,  before  we  can  com- 
prehend the  history  of  Pelagianism.  There  are  many  others 
which  I  might  enumerate  ;  but  these  are  of  minor  importance, 
obvious  results  of  those  which  I  here  describe,  and  I  have  no 
time  to  enter  into  an  account  of  them. 

There  are  certain  changes,  certain  moral  events,  which 
accomplish  and  manifest  themselves  in  man  without  his  being 
able  to  refer  their  origin  to  an  act  of  his  will,  or  being  able 
to  recognize  their  author. 

This  assertion  may  at  first  glance  surprise  some  of  you ;  I 
will  endeavor  to  illustrate  it  by  analogous  facts,  which  occur 
more  frequently  within  the  domain  of  intelligence,  and  are 
more  readily  apprehended. 

There  is  no  one  who  at  some  time  or  other  of  his  life  after 
laboriously  seeking  some  idea,  some  reminiscence,  has  not 
fallen  asleep  in  the  midst  of  the  search  without  having  suc- 
ceeded in  it>  and  next  morning,  on  awaking,  found  the  desired 
object  fully  present  to  his  mind.  There  is  no  scholar  to  whom 
it  has  not  occurred  to  have  retired  to  rest  without  having  ac- 
quired the  lesson  he  has  been  studying,  and  to  have  arisen 
next  morning  and  learned  it  without  the  least  difficulty.  I 
might  show  many  other  illustrations  of  the  same  description  : 
I  select  these  as  the  simplest  and  most  incontestable. 

I  deduce  from  them  this  consequence  :  independently  of  the 
voluntary  and  deliberate  activity  of  the  will,  a  certain  interior 
and  spontaneous  labor  accomplishes  itself  in  the  understand- 
ing of  man,  a  labor  which  we  do  not  direct  or  control,  of 
which  we  have  no  opportunity  of  observing  the  progress,  and 
yet  a  real  and  productive  labor. 

There  is,  after  all,  nothing  strange  in  this  :  every  one  of 


HISTORY    OF  111 

us  brings  with  him  into  the  world  an  intellectual  nature  of 
his  own.  Man,  by  the  operation  of  his  will,  directs  and 
modifies,  exalts  or  debases  his  moral  being,  but  he  does  not 
create  it ;  he  has  received  it,  and  received  it  endowed  with 
certain  individual  dispositions,  with  a  spontaneous  force. 
The  inborn  diversity  of  men  in  the  moral  point  of  view,  as 
in  the  physical,  is  beyond  dispute.  Now,  in  the  same  way 
that  the  physical  nature  of  each  man  developes  itself  sponta- 
neously and  by  its  own  virtue,  so,  in  the  same  way,  though  in 
a  very  unequal  degree,  there  is  operated  in  his  intellectual 
nature,  set  in  motion  by  his  relations  with  the  external  world, 
or  by  his  will  itself,  a  certain  involuntary,  imperceptible  de- 
velopment, and,  to  use  an  expression,  which  I  only  avail 
myself  of  because  it  figuratively  expresses  the  idea  I  wish  to 
convey,  a  sort  of  vegetation,  bearing  naturally,  and  in  due 
course,  its  fruits. 

That  which  takes  place  in  the  intellectual  order,  happens 
in  like  manner  in  the  moral  order.  Certain  facts  occur  in 
the  interior  of  the  human  soul  which  it  does  not  refer  to  itself, 
which  it  does  not  recognize  as  the  work  of  its  own  will ;  there 
are  certain  days,  certain  moments,  in  which  it  finds  itself  in 
a  different  moral  state  from  that  which  it  was  last  conscious 
of  under  the  operation  of  its  own  will.  It  cannot  trace  back 
the  progress  of  the  change  to  its  source  ;  it  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  it  took  place  without  its  concurrence.  In  other  words, 
the  moral  man  does  not  wholly  create  himself;  he  is  con- 
scious that  causes,  that  powers  external  to  himself,  act  upon 
him  and  modify  him  imperceptibly ;  in  his  moral  life,  as  in 
his  future  destiny,  there  are  points  utterly  inexplicable  to  him, 
of  which  he  knows  nothing. 

Nor  is  it  necessary,  to  convince  himself  of  this  fact,  that  he 
should  turn  to  those  great  moral  revolutions,  those  sudden, 
marked  changes,  which  the  human  soul,  undoubtedly,  may  at 
times  experience,  but  which  ever  receive  a  high  coloring 
from  the  imagination  of  the  narrators,  and  of  which  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  form  an  adequate  appreciation.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  look  into  oneself,  to  discover  there  more  than  one  example 
>f  these  involuntary  modifications.  There  is  no  one,  who,  on 
observation  of  his  internal  life,  will  not  easily  recognize  that 
the  vicissitudes,  the  development  of  his  moral  being,  are  not 
all  the  result,  either  of  the  action  of  his  will,  or  of  the  ex. 
ternal  circumstances  that  are  known  to  him. 

Such  are  the  principal  moral   facts  connected  with  the 


112  CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 

Pelagian  controversy,  such  as  human  nature,  simple,  universal 
nature,  communicates  them  to  us,  apart  from  the  historical 
details,  the  particular  circumstance  of  Pelagianism  itself. 
You  at  once  see,  that  from  these  facts  alone,  still  apart  from 
all  special  and  accidental  elements,  there  results  a  multitude 
of  questions,  the  groundwork  of  many  a  grave  discussion. 
And,  in  the  first  place,  we  may  question  the  reality  of  the 
facts  themselves  :  all  of  them,  indeed,  are  not  equally  exposed 
to  this  danger ;  the  fact  of  human  liberty,  for  instance,  is 
more  evident,  more  irresistible,  than  any  of  the  rest ;  yet  even 
this  has  been  denied,  as  all  things  may  be  denied,  seeing  that 
there  are  no  bounds  to  the  vast  field  of  error. 

Admit  the  facts,  acknowledge  them  fully :  then  comes  the 
question,  whether  we  may  not  be  mistaken  as  to  the  place 
which  each  occupies,  or  to  the  part  which  each  plays  in  the 
moral  life ;  we  may  have  measured  inexactly  their  extent,  their 
importance  ;  we  may  have  given  too  large  or  too  small  a  part 
to  liberty,  to  external  circumstances,  to  the  weakness  of  the 
will,  to  unknown  influences,  &c. 

Again,  altogether  different  explanations  of  the  facts  them- 
selves may  be  suggested.  In  reference,  for  example,  to  the 
involuntary,  imperceptible  changes  which  occur  in  the  moral 
state  of  man  ;  it  may  be  said  that  these  are  assignable  to  some 
want  of  due  attention  on  the  part  of  the  soul,  to  its  not  re- 
membering all  that  passes  within  itself,  to  its  having  forgotten 
some  act  of  the  will,  some  resolution,  some  impression,  which 
has  produced  consequences,  the  thread  of  which  it  has  not 
followed,  the  development  of  which  it  has  not  observed.  Or, 
to  explain  these  obscure,  doubtful  facts  of  the  moral  life,  re- 
course may  at  once  be  had  to  a  direct,  special  action,  of  God 
upon  man,  to  a  permanent  relation  between  the  action  of  God 
and  the  activity  of  man.  Or,  finally,  attempts  may  be  made 
to  reconcile  these  facts  together  in  various  ways  ;  to  reduce 
them  into  a  system  upon  such  or  such  a  principle,  to  refer 
them  to  such  or  such  a  general  doctrine  upon  the  nature  and 
destiny  of  man  and  of  the  world.  Thus,  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
an  infinity  of  questions  may  arise ;  from  the  nature  alone  of 
the  facts  under  consideration,  taken  in  themselves  and  in  their 
generality,  they  are  a  fruitful  subject  of  discussion. 

And  how  much  wider  still  the  field  of  controversy,  when 
particular,  local,  temporary  causes  vary  still  more  the  point 
of  view  under  which  we  regard  these  questions,  modify  the 
Cognizance  which  the  human  mind  takes  of  them,  diverting 


HISTORY    OF  113 

its  inquiries  into  one  direction  rather  than  .nto  another,  giv- 
ing greater  or  less  prominence,  greater  or  less  effect  to  this 
or  to  that  fact.  This,  which  always  happens,  happened  of 
course  in  the  fifth  century.  I  have  endeavored  to  reascend 
with  you  to  the  natural  and  purely  moral  sources  of  the  Pe- 
lagian controversy  :  it  is  now  necessary  that  we  should  con- 
sider its  historical  origins ;  they  are  no  less  necessary  to  the 
proper  comprehension  of  it. 

In  the  bosom  of  the  Christian  church,  the  moral  facts  which 
1  have  described  were,  as  a  matter  of  inevitable  course,  con- 
sidered in  various  points  of  view. 

Christianity  was  an  essentially  practical  revolution,  not  a 
mere  scientific,  speculative  reform.  Jts  prominent  aim  was 
to  change  the  moral  state,  to  govern  the  life  of  men ;  and  not 
only  that  of  particular  men,  but  of  whole  nations,  of  the  entire 
human  race. 

This  was  a  prodigious  innovation.  The  Greek  philosophy, 
%t  least  since  the  period  when  its  history  becomes  clear  and 
certain,  was  essentially  scientific,  was  applied  far  more  to  the 
research  of  truth  than  to  the  reformation  and  direction  of 
manners.  There  were  only  two  of  its  schools  which  took  a 
somewhat  different  direction.  It  entered  into  the  formal 
plan  of  the  stoics,  and  of  the  new  Platonists,  to  exercise  a 
moral  influence,  to  regulate  the  conduct,  as  well  as  to  en- 
lighten the  understanding ;  but  their  ambition  in  this  respect 
was  limited  to  a  small  number  of  disciples — to  a  sort  of  in- 
tellectual aristocracy. 

It  was,  on  the  contrary,  the  special  and  characteristic  design 
of  Christianity  to  effect  a  moral  reformation,  a  universal  re- 
formation— to  govern  throughout  the  world,  in  the  name  of 
its  doctrine,  the  will  and  the  life  of  men. 

As  an  almost  inevitable  consequence,  among  the  moral 
facts  which  constitute  our  nature,  the  chiefs  of  the  Christian 
society  would  apply  themselves  especially  to  give  prominence 
to  those  which  are  more  peculiarly  calculated  to  exercise 
a  reforming  influence,  to  bring  about  with  greater  prompti- 
tude practical  effects.  Towards  these  would  the  attention 
of  the  great  bishops,  of  the  fathers  of  the  church,  be  drawn  ; 
for  from  them  they  derived  the  means  of  impelling  Chris- 
tianity onward  in  its  career,  and  of  accomplishing  their  own 
mission. 

Again,  the  fulorum  of  the  moral  Christian  reformation  was 
religion  ;  it  was  religious  ideas,  the  relations  of  man  with  the 


114  HISTORY    OF 

Divinity,  of  the  present  with  the  future  life,  that  constituted 
her  force.  Her  chiefs  accordingly  would,  among  moral 
facts,  prefer  and  favor  those  whose  tendency  is  religious 
which  belong  to  the  religious  part  of  our  nature,  and  are,  so 
to  speak,  placed  on  the  limits  of  present  duties,  and  of  future 
hopes,  of  morality  and  of  religion. 

The  wants  of  Christianity,  and  its  means  of  action  for 
effecting  moral  reform,  and  governing  men,  varied  necessarily 
with  time  and  place  :  it  had  to  address  itself  in  the  human 
soul  now  to  one  fact,  now  to  another ;  to-day,  to  one  condition 
of  things — to-morrow,  to  another.  It  is  evident,  for  instance, 
that  at  various  times,  from  the  first  to  the  fifth  century,  the 
task  of  the  chiefs  of  the  religious  society  was  not  uniformly 
the  same,  and  could  not  be  accomplished  by  the  same  means. 
The  predominant  fact  of  the  first  century  was  the  struggle 
against  paganism — the  necessary  efforts  to  overthrow  an 
order  of  things  odious  to  the  state  of  men's  souls — the  work, 
in  a  word,  of  revolution,  of  war.  There  was  incessant  ne- 
cessity for  appealing  to  the  spirit  of  liberty,  of  examination, 
to  the  energetic  display  of  the  will ;  this  was  the  moral  fact 
which  Christian  society  of  this  period  invoked  and  displayed 
constantly,  on  all  occasions. 

In  the  fifth  century  things  were  in  a  different  situation. 
The  war  was  at  an  end,  or  nearly  so — the  victory  achieved. 
The  Christian  leaders  had  now  to  regulate  the  religious 
society,  to  promulgate  its  articles  of  faith,  to  order  its  dis- 
cipline, to  constitute  it,  in  a  word,  on  the  ruins  of  that  pagan 
world  over  which  it  had  triumphed.  These  vicissitudes  are 
to  be  met  with  in  all  great  moral  revolutions.  I  need  not 
give  you  further  instances  of  it.  You  perceive  that  at  this 
period  it  was  no  longer  the  spirit  of  liberty  which  it  was 
necessary  constantly  to  invoke.  That  which  was  now  to  be 
cultivated  in  its  turn,  was  a  disposition  in  the  people  favour- 
able to  the  establishment  of  rule,  of  order ;  to  the  exercise  of 
power. 

Apply  these  considerations  to  the  jmtural  and  moral  facts 
which  I  have  pointed  out  as  the  sources  of  the  Pelagian  con- 
troversy, and  you  will  easily  distinguish  those  whose  develop- 
ment the  chiefs  of  the  church  were  more  especially  called 
upon  to  promote  in  the  fifth  century. 

There  was  another  cause  which  modified  the  point  of  view 
under  which  they  considered  our  moral  nature.  The  facts 
which  relate  to  human  liberty,  and  the  problems  which  arise 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  115 

out  of  those  facts,  are  not  isolated  facts  or  isolated  problems ; 
they  are  closely  connected  with  other  facts,  with  other  pro. 
blems  still  more  general  and  complex  j  for  instance,  with  the 
question  of  the  origin  of  good  and  evil,  with  the  question 
of  the  general  destiny  of  man,  and  its  essential  relations  with 
the  designs  of  God  as  to  the  world.  Now,  upon  these  higher 
questions,  there  already  existed  in  the  church  determinate 
doctrines,  fixed  propositions,  accepted  solutions  ;  so  that 
when  new  questions  arose,  the  chiefs  of  the  religious  society 
nad  to  adapt  their  ideas  to  the  general  ideas,  to  the  established 
opinions.  Hence  for  them  this  complicated  situation :  certain 
facts,  certain  moral  problems  attracted  their  attention ;  they 
might  have  examined  and  judged  them  as  philosophers,  with 
all  the  freedom  of  their  minds,  apart  from  all  external  consi- 
derations, from  all  but  the  scientific  point  of  view  ;  but  then 
they  were  invested  with  an  official  power ;  they  were  called 
upon  to  govern  their  people,  to  regulate  their  actions,  and  to 
direct  their  will.  Hence  a  practical  political  necessity,  which 
weighed  down  upon  the  philosophic  operation  and  turned  it 
aside.  Nor  was  this  all ;  philosophers  and  politicians,  they 
were  at  the  same  time  compelled  to  the  functions  of  pure 
logicians,  to  conform  implicitly  on  all  occasions  to  the  conse- 
quences of  certain  principles,  of  certain  immutable  doctrines. 
They  thus,  as  it  were,  played  three  parts  at  once,  underwent 
at  once  three  yokes ;  they  had  to  consult  at  one  and  the  same 
time  the  nature  of  things,  practical  necessity,  and  hope. 
Whenever  a  new  question  arose,  whenever  they  were  called 
upon  to  take  cognizance  of  moral  facts  to  which  they  had  not 
as  yet  applied  particular  attention,  they  had  to  think  and  to 
act  in  this  triple  character,  to  fulfil  this  triple  mission. 

This,  however,  was  not,  in  the  religious  society,  the  po- 
sition of  all  its  members ;  there  were  many  Christians  who 
did  not  regard  themselves  as  called  upon,  on  the  one  hand,  to 
direct  the  moral  government  of  the  church,  nor  as  bound,  on 
the  other,  to  follow  out,  through  all  its  consequences,  its 
system  of  doctrines.  Among  the  numbers  so  situated,  there 
could  not  fail  to  arise  men  who  assumed  the  right  of  observ- 
ing and  of  acquiring  for  themselves  such  or  such  moral  facts, 
without  taking  much  heed  to  their  practical  influences,  or 
to  their  place  in,  and  connexion  with,  a  general  system ;  men 
with  minds  less  capacious,  less  powerful  than  those  of  the 
great  chiefs  of  the  church,  but  who,  having  fuller  career  in  a 
less  crowded  field,  imposing  upon  themselves  a  simpler  and 


116  HISTORY    OF 

more  easy  task,  might  very  well  arrive  at  more  precise  an« 
definite  knowledge  upon  particular  points.  Thus  arose  the 
heresiarchs. 

Thus  arose  Pelagianism.  You  are  by  this  time,  I  hope, 
acquainted "  with  the  great  preliminary,  and,  as  it  were,  ex- 
ternal circumstances  which  influenced  its  destiny  ;  you  have 
before  you  :  1,  the  principal  natural  facts  upon  which  the 
dispute  turned ;  2,  the  questions  which  naturally  arose  out  of 
those  facts ;  3,  the  special  point  of  view  under  which  these 
facts  and  these  questions  were  considered  in  the  fifth  cen- 
tury by  the  leaders  of  the  religious  society,  and  by  the  active 
and  investigating  minds  which  spring  up  in  its  bosom.  Thus 
possessed  of  the  guiding  thread,  the  illuminating  torch,  we 
may  now  advantageously  proceed  to  the  history  of  the  Pela- 
gian controversy  itself. 

The  controversy  arose  early  in  the  fifth  century.  The 
question  of  free  will,  and  of  the  action  of  God  upon  the 
human  soul,  had,  indeed,  already  occupied  the  attention  of 
the  Christians,  as  is  attested  by  the  letters  of  St.  Paul,  and 
by  many  other  monuments ;  but  the  facts  brought  forward 
had  been  either  accepted  or  rejected,  as  the  case  might  be, 
almost  without  discussion.  Towards  the  close  of  the  fourth 
century,  men  began  to  examine  them  more  closely  ;  and  some 
of  the  chiefs  of  the  church  already  began  to  entertain  some 
uneasiness  on  the  subject.  "  We  must  not,"  says  St.  Augus- 
tin  himself,  "  we  must  not  discourse  much  of  grace  to  men 
who  are  not  yet  Christians,  or  thoroughly  confirmed  Chris- 
tians ;  for  it  is  a  knotty  question,  and  one  which  may  give  the 
faith  much  trouble." 

About  the  year  405,  a  British  monk,  Pelagius  (this  is  the 
name  given  him  by  the  Greek  and  Latin  writers ;  his  real 
name,  it  appears,  was  Morgan),  was  residing  at  Rome. 
There  has  been  infinite  discussion  as  to  his  origin,  his  moral 
character,  his  capacity,  his  learning  ;  and,  under  these  various 
heads,  much  abuse  has  been  lavished  upon  him ;  but  this 
abuse  would  appear  to  be  unfounded,  for,  judging  from  the 
most  authoritative  testimony,  from  that  of  St.  Augustin  him- 
self, Pelagius  was  a  man  of  good  birth,  of  excellent  education, 
of  pure  life.  A  resident,  as  I  have  said,  at  Rome,  and  now  a 
man  of  mature  age,  without  laying  down  any  distinct  doc- 
trines, without  having  written  any  book  on  the  subject,  Pela- 
gius began,  about  the  year  I  have  mentioned,  405,  to  talk 
much  about  free  will,  to  insist  urgently  upon  this  moral  fact. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  117 

Lo  expound  it.  There  is  no  indication  that  he  attacked  anv 
person  about  the  matter,  or  that  he  sought  controversy  ;  he 
appears  to  have  acted  simply  upon  the  belief  that  human 
liberty  was  not  held  in  sufficient  account,  had  not  its  due 
share  in  the  religious  doctrines  of  the  period. 

These  ideas  excited  no  trouble  in  Rome,  scarcely  any 
debate.  Pelagius  spoke  freely  ;  they  listened  to  him  quietly. 
His  principal  disciple  was  Celestius,  like  him  a  monk,  or  so 
it  is  thought  at  least,  but  younger,  more  confident,  of  a  more 
daring  spirit,  and  more  determined  to  prosecute  the  conse- 
quences of  his  opinions  to  the  end. 

In  411,  Pelagius  and  Celestius  are  no  longer  at  Rome; 
we  find  them  in  Africa,  at  Hippo  and  at  Carthage.  In  the 
latter  town,  Celestius  put  forth  his  ideas :  a  controversy  was 
immediately  begun  between  him  and  the  deacon  Paulinus, 
who  accused  him  of  heresy  before  the  bishop.  In  412  a 
council  was  assembled  ;  Celestius  appeared  there,  and  vigo- 
rously defended  himself;  he  was  excommunicated,  and,  after 
having  in  vain  essayed  an  appeal  to  the  bishop  of  Rome, 
passed  into  Asia,  whither  Pelagius,  it  seems,  had  preceded 
him. 

Their  doctrines  spread ;  they  found  in  the  islands  of  the 
Mediterranean,  among  others  in  Sicily  and  at  Rhodes,  a  fa- 
vorable reception;  they  sent  to  Saint  Augustin  a  small  work 
of  Celestius,  entitled  Definiliones,  which  many  people  were 
eager  to  read.  Hilary,  a  Gaul,  wrote  to  him  about  it  with  great 
uneasiness.  The  bishop  of  Hippo  began  to  be  alarmed ;  he 
saw  in  these  new  ideas  error  and  peril. 

At  first,  wnong  the  facts  relative  to  the  moral  activity  of 
man,  that  of  free  will  was  almost  the  only  one  with  which 
Pelagius  and  Celestius  seemed  to  be  occupied.  Saint  Au- 
gustin was  of  the  same  belief  as  they,  and  had  more  than 
once  proclaimed  it;  but  other  facts,  in  his  opinion,  ought  to 
occupy  a  place  by  the  side  of  this  one;  for  example,  the  in- 
sufficiency of  the  human  will,  the  necessity  for  exterior  aid, 
and  the  moral  changes  which  happen  in  the  soul,  without  her 
being  able  to  claim  them.  Pelagius  and  Celestius  seemed  to 
count  these  nothing :  this  was  the  first  cause  of  the  contest  be- 
tween them  and  the  bishop  of  Hippo,  whose  greater  mind  con- 
sidered moral  nature  under  a  greater  number  of  aspects. 

Besides,  Pelagius,  by  the  almost  exclusive  importance  which 
he  gave  to  free-will,  weakened  the  religious  side  of  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine,  and  strengthened,  if  I  may  use  the  expression, 

20 


118  HISTORY    OF 

the  human  side.  Liberty  is  the  fact  of  man:  ne  appears  there 
alone.  In  the  insufficiency  of  the  human  will,  on  the  con- 
trary, and  in  the  moral  changes  whica  it  does  not  claim,  there 
is  a  place  for  Divine  intervention.  Now,  the  reforming  power 
of  the  church  was  essentially  religious :  it  could  not  but  lose, 
under  the  practical  point  of  view,  from  a  theory  which  placed 
in  the  first  rank  a  fact  with  which  religion  had  nothing  to  do, 
and  left  in  the  shade  those  in  which  its  influence  found  occa- 
sion for  exercise. 

Saint  Augustin  was  the  chief  of  the  doctors  of  the  church, 
called  upon  more  than  any  other  to  maintain  the  general 
system  of  her  doctrines.  Now,  the  ideas  of  Pelagius  and  of 
Celestius  seemed  to  him  in  contradiction  with  some  of  the  fun- 
damental points  of  the  Christian  faith,  especially  with  the  doc- 
trine of  original  sin  and  of  redemption.  He  attacked  them, 
therefore,  in  a  triple  relation :  as  a  philosopher,  because  their 
knowledge  of  human  nature  was,  in  his  eyes,  narrow  and  in- 
complete ',  as  a  practical  reformer,  and  charged  with  the  go- 
vernment of  the  church,  because,  according  to  him,  they  weak- 
ened his  most  efficacious  means  of  reformation  and  government ; 
as  a  logician,  because  their  ideas  did  not  exactly  agree  with 
the  consequences  deduced  from  the  essential  principles  of  the 
faith. 

You  see,  from  that  time,  what  a  serious  aspect  the  quarrel 
took :  everything  was  engaged  in  it,  philosophy,  politics,  and 
religion,  the  opinions  of  Saint  Augustin  and  his  business,  his 
self-love  and  his  duty.  He  entirely  abandoned  himself  to  it, 
publishing  treatises,  writing  letters,  collecting  information, 
which  came  to  him  from  all  parts,  prodigal  of  refutations,  and 
of  counsels,  and  carrying  into  all  his  writings,  all  his  proceed- 
ings, that  mixture  of  passion  and  mildness,  of  authority  and  of 
sympathy,  extent  of  mind  and  logical  rigor,  which  gave  him 
so  rare  a  power. 

Pelagius  and  Celestius,  on  their  side,  did  not  remain  inac- 
tive ;  they  had  found  powerful  friends  in  the  east.  If  Saint 
Jerome  fulminated  against  them  at  Bethlehem,  John,  bishop 
of  Jerusalem,  zealously  protected  them  :  he  convoked,  on  their 
account,  an  assembly  of  the  priests  of  his  church.  Orosius, 
the  Spaniard,  a  disciple  of  Saint  Augustin,  and  who  happened 
to  be  in  Palestine,  repaired  thither,  and  stated  all  that  had 
passed  in  Africa  upon  the  subject  of  Pelagius,  as  well  as  the 
errors  of  which  he  was  accused.  On  the  recommendation  of 
bishop  John,  Pelagius  was  called  ;  they  asked  him  if  he  really 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  119 

taught  what  Augustin  had  refuted.  "  What  is  Augustin  to 
me  V  answered  he.  Many  present  were  shocked.  Augustin 
was  then  the  most  celebrated  and  most  respected  doctor  of  the 
church.  They  desired  to  expel  Pelagius,  and  even  to  excom- 
municate him ;  but  John  turned  aside  the  blow,  caused  Pela- 
gius to  be  seated,  and  interrogated  him,  saying,  "  It  is  I  who 
am  Augustin  here ;  it  is  me  that  thou  shalt  answer."  Pela- 
gius spoke  Greek,  his  accuser  Orosius  spoke  only  Latin ;  the 
members  of  the  assembly  did  not  understand  him ;  they  sepa- 
rated without  deciding  anything. 

A  short  time  afterwards,  in  the  month  of  December.  415,  a 
council  was  held  in  Palestine,  at  Diospolis,  the  ancient  Lydda, 
composed  of  fourteen  bishops,  and  under  the  presidency  of 
Eulogius,  bishop  of  Caesarea.  Two  Gaulish  bishops,  exiles 
from  their  sees,  Heros,  bishop  of  Aries,  and  Lazarus,  bishop 
of  Aix,  had  addressed  to  him  a  new  accusation  against  Pela- 
gius. They  were  not  present  at  the  council,  alleging  illness, 
and  probably  informed  that  he  was  little  favorable  to  them. 
Pelagius  appeared  there,  still  protected  by  the  bishop  of  Jeru- 
salem :  they  interrogated  him  concerning  his  opinions ;  he 
explained  them,  modified  them,  adopted  all  that  the  council 
presented  to  him  as  the  true  doctrine  of  the  church,  recounted 
what  he  had  already  suffered,  spoke  of  his  relations  with  many 
holy  bishops,  with  Augustin  himself,  who,  two  years  previously, 
had  written  him  a  letter  intended  to  contest  some  of  his  ideas, 
but  full  of  benevolence  and  mildness.  The  accusation  of 
Heros  and  of  Lazarus  was  read,  but  only  in  Latin,  and  by  the 
interposition  of  an  interpreter.  The  council  declared  itself 
satisfied ;  Pelagius  was  acquitted  and  declared  orthodox. 

The  report  of  this  decision  soon  arrived  in  Africa,  from 
Africa  into  Europe,  from  city  to  city.  As  soon  as  Saint  Au- 
gustin was  informed  of  the  results  of  the  council  of  Diospolis, 
although  he  had  not  yet  received  its  acts,  he  put  everything 
in  motion  to  resist  their  effects. 

About  the  same  time  an  incident  occurred  in  Palestine  which 
threw  a  gloomy  hue  over  the  cause  of  Pelagius.  He  remained 
at  Jerusalem,  and  there  had  professed  his  ideas  with  a  greater 
degree  of  assurance.  A  violent  commotion  broke  out  at  Beth- 
lehem against  Saint  Jerome  and  the  monasteries  which  were 
formed  near  him :  serious  excesses  were  committed,  houses 
were  pillaged,  burnt,  a  deacon  killed ;  and  Jerome  was  obliged 
to  seek  safety  in  a  tower.  The  Pelagians,  it  is  said,  were  the 
authors  of  these  disorders:  nothing  proves  this,  and  I  am  ra« 


120  HISTORY    OF 

ther  inclined  to  doubt  it ;  still  there  was  room  for  suspicion , 
it  was  generally  believed,  and  a  great  clamor  arose ;  Saint 
Jerome  wrote  to  the  bishop  of  Rome,  Innocent  L,  about  it,  and 
Pelagianism  was  seriously  compromised. 

Two  solemn  councils  sat  this  year  (416)  in  Africa,  at  Car- 
thage and  at  Milevum ;  sixty-eight  bishops  were  present  at 
the  one,  sixty-one  at  the  other.  Pelagius  and  his  doctrines 
were  there  formally  condemned ;  the  two  assemblies  informed 
the  pope  of  their  decision,  and  Saint  Augustin  wrote  to  him 
privately,  with  four  other  bishops,  giving  him  a  more  detailed 
account  of  the  whole  affair,  and  induced  him  to  examine  Pe- 
lagius in  order  to  proclaim  truth  and  anathematise  error. 

On  the  27th  January,  417,  Innocent  answered  the  two  coun- 
cils, to  the  five  bishops,  and  condemned  the  doctrines  of  Pela- 
gius. 

He  did  not  deem  himself  beaten ;  two  months  afterwards, 
Innocent  died ;  Zosimus  succeeded  him ;  Celestius  returned  to 
Rome ;  he  obtained  from  the  new  pope  a  new  examination,  at 
which  he  probably  explained  his  opinion,  as  Pelagius  had  at 
Diospolis ;  and  on  the  21st  September,  417,  Zosimus  informed 
the  bishops  of  Africa,  by  three  letters,  that  he  had  scrupulously 
employed  himself  in  this  affair ;  that  he  had  heard  Celestius 
himself,  at  a  meeting  of  priests  held  in  the  church  of  Saint 
Clement ;  that  Pelagius  had  written  to  him  to  justify  himself; 
that  he  was  satisfied  with  their  explanations,  and  had  rein- 
stated them  in  the  communion  of  the  church. 

Hardly  had  these  letters  arrived  in  Africa,  when  a  new 
council  met  at  Carthage  (in  May,  418);  two  hundred  and  three 
bishops1  were  present  at  it ;  in  eight  express  canons  it  con- 
demned the  doctrines  of  Pelagius,  and  addressed  itself  to  the 
emperor  Honorius  in  order  to  obtain  from  him,  against  the 
heretics,  measures  which  might  place  the  church  under  shelter 
from  peril. 

From  418  to  421,  appeared  many  edicts  and  letters  of  the 
emperors  Honorius,  Theodosius  II.,  and  Constantius,  which 
banished  Pelagius,  Celestius,  and  their  partisans,  from  Rome, 
and  all  towns  where  they  should  attempt  to  propagate  their 
fatal  errors. 

Pope  Zosimus  did  not  long  resist  the  authority  of  the  coun- 
cils and  of  the  emperors ;  he  convoked  a  new  assembly,  in  order 


1  According  to  others?,  two  hundred  and  fourtsen. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  121 

to  hear  Celestius  again ;  but  Celestius  had  quitted  Rome,  and 
Zosimus  wrote  to  the  bishops  of  Africa  that  he  had  condemned 
the  Pelagians. 

The  quarrel  continued  yet  some  time  ;  eighteen  bishops  of 
Italy  refused  to  subscribe  to  the  condemnation  of  Pelagius ; 
they  were  deprived  of  their  sees,  and  banished  into  the  east. 
The  triple  decision  of  the  council,  the  pope,  and  the  emperor, 
gave  a  death-blow  to  this  cause.  After  the  year  418,  we 
discover,  in  history,  no  trace  of  Pelagius.  The  name  of 
Celestius  is  sometimes  met  with  until  the  year  427 ;  it  then 
disappears.  These  two  men  once  off  the  scene,  their  school 
rapidly  declined.  The  opinion  of  Saint  Augustin,  adopted 
by  the  councils,  by  the  popes,  by  the  civil  authority,  became 
the  general  doctrine  of  the  church.  But  the  victory  had  yet 
to  cost  her  some  struggles ;  Pelagianism  dying,  left  an  heir ; 
the  semi-Pelagians  engaged  in  the  struggle  which  the  Pela. 
gians  could  not  maintain. 

In  the  south  of  Gaul,  in  the  heart  of  the  monasteries  of 
Saint  Lerins  and  of  Saint  Victor,  where  boldness  of  thought 
then  took  refuge,  it  appeared  to  some  men,  among  others  to 
Cassienus,  the  monk  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  that 
the  fault  of  Pelagius  was  in  being  too  exclusive,  and  not 
holding  sufficient  account  of  all  the  facts  relative  to  human 
liberty,  and  to  its  relation  with  the  Divine  power.  The  in- 
sufficiency of  the  human  will,  for  example,  the  necessity  for 
exterior  relief,  the  moral  revolutions  which  operate  in  the 
soul,  and  are  not  its  work,  were,  he  felt,  real,  important  facts, 
that  should  neither  be  disputed  nor  even  neglected.  Cassienus 
admitted  them  fully,  loudly,  thus  giving  to  the  doctrine  of 
free-will  something  of  the  religious  character  which  Pelagius 
and  Celestius  had  so  much  weakened.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
he  disputed,  more  or  less  openly,  many  of  the  ideas  of  Saint 
Augustin  ;  among  others,  his  explanation  of  the  moral  refor- 
mation and  progressive  sanctification  of  man.  Saint  Augustin 
attributed  them  to  the  direct,  immediate,  special  action  of  God 
upon  the  soul,  to  grace,  properly  so  called,  a  grace  to  which 
man  had  not  title  of  himself,  and  which  proceeded  from 
absolutely  gratuitous  gift,  from  the  free  choice  of  the  Divinity. 

Cassienus  allowed  more  efficacy  to  the  merits  of  man  him- 
self, and  maintained  that  his  moral  amelioration  was  partly 
the  work  of  his  own  will,  which  drew  upon  him  divine  sup- 
port, a"d  produced,  by  a  natural  concatenation,  although  often 


122  HISTORY    OF 

unseen,  the  internal  changes  by  which  the  progress  of  sane 
tification  made  itself  known. 

Such,  between  the  semi-Pelagians  and  their  redoubtable 
adversary,  was  the  principal  subject  of  controversy :  it  com- 
menced about  the  year  428,  upon  letters  from  Prosper  of 
Aquitaine  and  from  Hilary,  who  had  hastened  to  inform  Saint 
Augustin  that  Pelagianism  was  again  rising  under  a  new 
form.  The  bishop  of  Hippo  immediately  wrote  a  treatise 
entitled  :  De  Prczdestinatione  Sanctorum  et  de  dono  perseve- 
rantice.  Prosper  published  his  poem  Against  Ingrates ;  and 
the  war  of  pamphlets  and  letters  regained  all  its  activity. 

Saint  Augustin  died  in  430 ;  Saint  Prosper  and  Hilary 
alone  remained  charged  with  prosecuting  his  work.  They 
went  to  Rome,  and  had  the  semi-Pelagians  condemned  by 
pope  Celestin.  However  modified  this  doctrine  was,  it  was 
but  little  favorable  in  the  church  ;  it  reproduced  a  heresy 
already  vanquished  ;  it  weakened,  although  to  a  less  degree, 
the  religious  influence  of  morality  and  of  government ;  it  was 
in  discord  with  the  general  course  of  ideas,  which  tended  to 
give  the  greater  share  to  the  Divine  intervention  on  every 
occasion ;  it  would  have  fallen  almost  without  resistance,  if  a 
directly  contrary  doctrine,  that  of  the  predestinarians,  had  not 
appeared  and  lent.it  a  few  moments'  power  and  credit. 

From  the  writings  of  Saint  Augustin  upon  the  impotence 
of  human  will,  the  nullity  of  its  merits,  and  the  perfectly 
free  and  gratuitous  nature  of  Divine  grace,  some  refractory 
logicians  deduced  the  predestination  of  all  men,  and  the  irre- 
vocability of  the  decrees  of  God  as  to  the  eternal  lot  of  every 
one.  The  first  manifestations  of  this  doctrine  in  the  fifth 
century  are  obscure  and  doubtful ;  but  from  the  time  that  it 
appeared,  it  shocked  the  good  sense  and  moral  equity  of  most 
Christians.  Accordingly,  the  semi-Pelagians  took  up  the 
combat,  and  presented  their  ideas  as  the  natural  counterpoise 
of  such  an  error.  Such  was  especially  the  characteristic 
which  was  labored  to  be  impressed  upon  semi-Pelagianism, 
about  the  year  445,  by  Faustus,  bishop  of  Riez,  whom  I  have 
already  named,  and  of  whom,  at  a  later  period,  I  shall  speak 
more  particularly ;  he  presented  himself  as  a  kind  of  media- 
tor between  the  Pelagians  and  the  predestinarians.  "  It  is 
necessary,"  said  he,  "  in  the  question  of  the  grace  of  God 
and  the  obedience  of  man,  to  keep  to  the  middle  path,  and 
incline  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left."  According  to 
him,  Pelagius  and  Saint  Augustin  were  both  of  them  too 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  123 

exclusive :  one  allowed  too  much  to  human  liberty  and  not 
enough  to  the  action  of  God ;  the  other  was  too  forgetful  of 
human  liberty.  This  species  of  compromise  at  first  obtained 
much  favor  in  the  Gaulish  church ;  two  councils  met,  one  at 
Aries,  in  472,  the  other  at  Lyons,  in  473,  formally  condemned 
the  predestinarians,  and  charged  Faustus  t6  publish  a  treatise 
which  he  had  written  against  them,  entitled,  Of  Grace  and  oj 
the  Liberty  of  the  Human  Will,  even  ordering  him  to  add  some 
further  developments.  This,  however,  was  but  a  day's  res- 
pite for  semi-Pelagianism,  a  glimmer  of  fortune ;  it  was  not 
long  in  again  falling  into  discredit. 

While  still  living,  Saint  Augustin  had  been  accused  of 
advocating  the  doctrine  of  predestination,  the  total  abolition 
of  free-will,  and  he  had  energetically  defended  himself  from 
it.  He  deceived  himself,  I  think,  as  a  logician,  in  denying  a 
consequence  which  inevitably  resulted  from  his  ideas,  on  the 
one  hand,  concerning  the  impotence  and  corruption  of  the 
human  will — on  the  other,  concerning  the  nature  of  the  Divine 
intervention  and  fore-knowledge. 

But  the  superiority  of  Saint  Augustin's  mind  saved  him, 
on  this  occasion,  from  the  errors  into  which  logic  had  nearly 
brought  it,  and  he  was  inconsistent  precisely  because  of  his 
lofty  reason.  Allow  me  to  dwell  a  moment  on  this  moral 
fact,  which  alone  explains  the  contradictions  of  so  many  fine 
geniuses :  I  shall  take  an  example  near  to  us  all,  and  one  of 
the  most  striking.  Most  of  you,  of  course,  have  read  the 
Conlrat  Social  of  Rousseau ;  the  sovereignty  of  number,  of 
the  numerical  majority  is,  as  you  know,  the  fundamental 
principle  of  the  work,  and  Rousseau,  for  a  long  time,  follows 
out  the  consequences  of  it  with  inflexible  rigor ;  a  time  ar- 
rives, however,  when  he  abandons  them,  and  abandons  them 
with  great  effect ;  he  wishes  to  give  his  fundamental  laws, 
his  constitution,  to  the  rising  society  ;  his  high  intellect  warned 
him  that  such  a  work  could  not  proceed  from  universal  suf- 
frage, from  the  numerical  majority,  from  the  multitude :  "  A 
God,"  said  he,  "  must  give  laws  to  men.". ...  It  is  not  magis- 
tracy, it  is  not  sovereignty. ...  It  is  a  particular  and  superior 
function,  which  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  human  em- 
pire.1 And  hereupon  he  sets  up  a  sole  legislator,  a  sage ; 
thus  violating  his  principle  of  the  sovereignty  of  number,  in 


1  Control  Sociaf,  b.  ii.,  ch.  vii. 


124  HISTORY   OF 

order  to  turn  to  an  entirely  different  principle,  to  the  sovft 
reignty  of  intellect,  to  the  right  of  superior  reason. 

The  Control  Social,  and  almost  all  the  works  of  Rousseau, 
abound  in  similar  contradictions,  and  they  are,  perhaps,  the 
clearest  proof  of  the  great  mind  of  the  author. 

It  was  by  an  inconsistency  of  the  same  kind  that  Saint 
Augustin  resolutely  repelled  the  predestination  which  had 
been  imputed  to  him.  Others,  afterwards,  acute  dialecticians, 
unhesitatingly  went  on  to  this  doctrine  and  settled  to  it :  for 
him,  when  he  perceived  it,  enlightened  by  his  genius,  he 
turned  aside,  and  without  entirely  retracing  his  steps,  took 
flight  in  another  direction,  in  absolutely  refusing  to  abolish 
liberty.  The  church  acted  like  Saint  Augustin ;  it  had 
adopted  his  doctrines  concerning  grace,  and  on  this  score 
condemned  the  Pelagians  and  semi-Pelagians ;  she  likewise 
condemned  the  predestinarians,  thus  taking  from  Cassienus 
and  Faustus,  and  from  their  disciples,  the  pretext  by  favor  of 
which  they  had  somewhat  regained  the  ascendant.  Semi- 
Pelagianism  from  that  time  did  nothing  but  decline  ;  Saint 
Cesarius,  bishop  of  Aries,  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixth 
century,  again  declared  war  against  it,  as  Saint  Augustin  and 
Saint  Prosper  had  done  :  in  529,  the  councils  of  Orange  and 
Valencia  condemned  it ;  in  330,  pope  Boniface  II.,  in  his 
turn,  struck  it  with  a  sentence  of  anathema,  and  it  soon 
ceased,  for  a  long  time  at  least,  to  agitate  minds.  Predesti- 
nation experienced  the  same  fate. 

None  of  these  doctrines  gave  rise  to  a  sect,  properly  so 
sailed :  they  were  not  separated  from  the  church,  nor  did 
Ihey  constitute  a  distinct  religious  society  ;  they  had  no 
organization,  no  worship  :  they  were  mere  opinions  debated 
.  letween  men  of  mind  ;  more  or  less  accredited,  more  or  less 
•-ontrary  to  the  official  doctrine  of  the  church,  but  which 
never  threatened  her  with  a  schism.  Accordingly,  of  their 
Appearance,  and  of  the  debates  which  they  excited,  there  only 
remained  certain  tendencies,  certain  intellectual  dispositions, 
iot  sects  nor  veritable  schools.  We  meet  at  all  epochs  in  the 
course  of  European  civilization,  1st,  With  minds  preoccupied 
especially  with  what  there  is  of  humanity  in  our  moral  activ- 
ity, with  the  fact  of  liberty,  and  which  thus  attach  themselves 
.o  the  Pelagians.  2d,  With  minds  more  especially  struck 
with  tne  power  of  God  over  man,  with  Divine  intervention  in 
human  activity,  and  inclined  to  make  human  liberty  vanish 
under  the  hand  of  God  ;  these  hold  with  the  predestinarians. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FKANCE.  12Z 

3d,  Between  those  two  tendencies  was  placed  the  general 
doctrine  of  the  church,  which  strove  to  take  into  account  all 
natural  facts,  human  liberty  and  Divine  intervention ;  denies 
that  God  effects  all  in  man,  that  man  can  do  all  without  the 
assistance  of  God,  and  thus  establishes  itself,  perhaps  with 
more  of  reason  than  of  scientific  consistency,  in  the  regions 
of  good  sense,  the  true  country  of  the  human  mind,  which 
always  returns  there,  after  having  strayed  ?n  all  directions 
(Post  longos  error es.) 


126  HISTORY   01 


SIXTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — General  character  of  the  literature  of  the  middle 
ages — Of  the  transition  from  pagan  philosophy  to  Christian  theology 
— Of  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the  soul  in  the  Christian  church 
— The  ancient  priests  for  the  most  part  pronounced  in  favor  of  the 
system  of  materialism — Efforts  to  escape  from  it — Analogous  march 
of  ideas  in  pagan  philosophy — Commencement  of  the  system  of  spi- 
rituality— Saint  Augustin,  Nemesius,  Mamertius  Claudienus — Faus- 
tus,  bishop  of  Riez — His  arguments  for  the  materiality  of  the  soul — 
Mamertius  Claudienus  answers  him — Importance  of  Mamertius 
Claudienus  in  Gaul — Analysis  of,  and  quotations  from  his  treatise  on 
the  nature  of  the  soul — The  dialogue  of  Evagrius  between  Zacheus 
the  Christian  and  Apollonius  the  philosopher — Of  the  effects  of  the 
invasion  of  the  barbarians  upon  the  moral  state  of  Gaul. 

Between  the  question  which  occupied  us  in  the  last  lecture, 
and  that  with  which  we  shall  now  occupy  ourselves,  the  dif- 
fertrice  is  very  great.  Pelagianism  was  not  only  a  question, 
but  also  an  event ;  it  gave  rise  to  parties,  interests,  passions ; 
it  put  in  movement  councils,  emperors ;  it  influenced  the  fate 
of  many  men.  The  question  of  the  nature  of  the  soul  pro- 
duced nothing  of  the  kind ;  it  was  carried  on  between  a  few 
able  men  in  a  corner  of  the  empire.  In  the  last  lecture,  I  had 
many  facts  to  recount ;  at  present  I  have  to  speak  of  books 
and  of  arguments. 

I  pray  you  to  mark  the  course  of  our  studies.  We  com- 
menced by  examining  the  social  state,  the  external  and  pub- 
lic facts ;  we  then  passed  to  the  moral  state  of  Gaul ;  we 
•  sought  it  first  in  general  facts,  in  the  entirety  of  society; 
then  in  a  great  religious  debate,  in  a  doctrine,  an  active  power- 
ful doctrine,  which  became  an  event ;  we  will  now  study  it  in 
a  simple  philosophical  discussion.  We  shall  thus  penetrate 
more  and  more  into  the  interior  of  men's  minds ;  we  first  con- 
sidered facts,  then  ideas  mingled  with  facts,  and  subject  to 
their  influences ;  we  will  now  consider  ideas  by  themselves. 

Before  entering  upon  the  question,  permit  me  to  say  a  few 
words  upon  the  general  character  of  the  literary  writers  of 
this  period  and  of  the  middle  ages  in  general. 

If- you  compare,  on  the  one  hand,  ancient  literature,  Greek 
nd  Roman  literature,  and  on  the  other  hand,  modern  litera* 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  127 

ture,  especially  so  called,  with  that  of  the  middle  ages,  the 
principal  points,  which,  as  I  think,  will  strike  you,  will  be  the 
following : 

In  ancient  literature,  the  form  of  the  works,  the  art  of  their 
composition,  and  the  language,  are  admirable ;  even  when  its 
materials  are  poor,  the  ideas  false  or  confused,  the  workman- 
ship is  so  skilful,  that  it  cannot  fail  to  please ;  manifesting  in 
the  author,  a  mind  at  once  natural  and  refined,  whose  inward 
development  far  surpasses  its  acquired  knowledge,  which  has 
an  exquisite  appreciation  of  the  beautiful,  and  a  peculiar  apti- 
tude for  reproducing  it. 

In  modern  literature,  since  the  sixteenth  century  for  in- 
stance, the  form  is  very  often  imperfect ;  there  is  frequently  a 
deficiency  at  once  of  nature  and  of  art,  but  the  groundwork  is 
in  general  sound ;  we  meet  with  less  and  less  of  gross  igno- 
rance, of  wanderings  from  the  question,  of  confusion ;  method, 
common  sense,  in  a  word,  artistic  merit,  is  the  prominent 
feature ;  if  the  mind  is  not  always  satisfied,  it  is  at  least  very 
seldom  shocked  ;  the  spectacle  is  not  invariably  a  fine  one,  but 
chaos  has  disappeared. 

The  intellectual  labors  of  the  middle  ages  present  a  dif- 
ferent aspect ;  as  a  general  proposition,  they  are  entirely  de- 
ficient in  artistic  merit ;  the  form  is  rude,  fantastic ;  they  are 
full  of  divergences,  of  incoherent  ideas ;  they  manifest  a  state 
of  mind,  crude,  uncultivated,  alike  without  interior  develop- 
ment or  -acquired  knowledge,  and  accordingly  neither  our 
reason  nor  our  taste  is  satisfied.  This  is  the  reason  why  they 
have  been  forgotten,  why  Greek  and  Roman  literature  have 
survived,  and  will  eternally  survive  the  people  among  whom 
it  respectively  arose.  Yet  under  this  so  imperfect  form, 
amidst  this  so  strange  medley  of  ideas  and  of  facts,  ill  under- 
stood  and  ill  combined,  the  books  of  the  middle  ages  are  very 
remarkable  monuments  of  the  activity  and  wealth  of  the  hu- 
man mind ;  we  meet  in  them  with  many  vigorous  and  original 
conceptions ;  important  questions  are  often  sounded  to  their 
lowest  depths,  flashes  of  philosophical  truth,  of  literary  beauty, 
glance  at  every  moment  from  the  darkness ;  the  mineral  in 
this  mine  is  altogether  in  a  rough  state,  but  the  metal  is  plen- 
tiful, and  well  merits  our  research. 

The  writings  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  moreover, 
have  a  character  and  an  interest  peculiar  to  themselves.  It 
was  the  period  at  which  ancient  philosophy  was  giving  way 
before  modern  theology,  in   which  the  one  was  becoming 


128  HISTORY    OF 

transformed  into  the  other ;  in  which  certain  systems  becama 
dogmas,  certain  schools  sects.  These  periods  of  transition  are 
of  great  importance  ;  are,  perhaps,  in  the  historical  point  of 
view,  the  most  instructive  of  all.  It  is  at  these  periods  only 
that  we  are  able  to  view  simultaneously  and  face  to  face 
certain  facts,  certain  states  of  man  and  of  the  world,  which 
are  generally  only  to  be  seen  by  themselves,  and  separated  by 
whole  centuries ;  they  are  the  only  periods,  therefore,  in  which 
it  is  easy  for  us  to  compare  these  facts  and  these  states,  to 
explain  them,  connect  them  together.  The  human  mind  is 
but  too  prone  to  walk  in  but  one  single  path,  to  see  things 
but  under  one  partial,  narrow,  exclusive  aspect,  to  place  itself 
in  prison ;  it  is,  therefore,  a  very  fortunate  circumstance  for 
it,  when  it  is  compelled,  by  the  very  nature  of  the  spectacle 
placed  before  its  eyes,  to  look  around  it  in  all  directions,  to 
embrace  a  vast  horizon,  to  contemplate  a  great  number  of 
different  objects,  to  study  the  great  problems  of  the  world 
under  all  their  aspects,  and  in  all  their  various  solutions.  It 
is  more  especially  in  the  south  of  Gaul  that  this  character  of 
the  fifth  century  manifests  itself.  You  have  seen  the  activity 
which  prevailed  in  the  religious  society,  and,  among  others, 
in  the  monasteries  of  Lerins  and  Saint- Victor,  the  focus  of  so 
many  daring  opinions.  The  whole  of  this  movement  of  mind 
did  not  emanate  from  Christianity;  it  was  in  the  same  districts, 
in  the  Lyonnese,  the  Viennese,  the  Narbonnese,  Aquitaine, 
that  ancient  civilization  in  its  decline  concentrated  itself.  It 
was  here  that  it  still  exhibited  most  life.  Spain,  Italy  herself, 
were  at  this  period  far  less  active  than  Gaul,  far  less  rich  in 
literature  and  in  literary  men.  We  must,  perhaps,  attribute 
this  result  to  the  development  which  had  been  assumed  in 
these  provinces  by  Greek  civilization,  and  to  the  prolonged 
influence  there  of  its  philosophy.  In  all  the  great  towns  of 
southern  Gaul,  at  Marseilles,  at  Aries,  at  Aix,  at  Vienne,  at 
Lyons  itself,  the  Greek  language  was  understood  and  spoken. 
There  were  regular  Greek  exercises  under  Caligula,  in  the 
Athanacum,  an  establishment  at  Lyons,  especially  devoted  to 
that  purpose ;  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  when 
Cesarius,  bishop  of  Aries,  required  the  faithful  to  sing  with 
the  clergy  previous  to  the  sermon,  many  of  the  people  sang 
bx  Greek.  We  find  among  the  distinguished  Gauls  of  this 
period  philosophers  of  all  the  Greek  schools ;  some  are  men- 
tioned as  Pythagoreans,  others  as  Platonists,  others  as  Epica- 
-eans,  others  as  Stoics. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  12& 

The  Gaulish  writings  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  century,  among 
others  that  which  I  am  about  to  introduce  to  you,  the  treatise 
of  Mamertius  Claudienus,  On  the  Nature  of  the  Soul,  quote 
passages  from  philosophers  whose  names  even  we  do  not  meet 
with  elsewhere.  In  short,  there  is  every  evidence  that,  in  the 
philosophical  as  in  the  religious  point  of  view,  Greek  and  Ro- 
man as  well  as  Christian  Gaul  was  at  this  period  the  most 
unimated,  the  most  living  portion  of  the  empire ;  of  the  western 
empire  at  all  events.  It  is  here,  accordingly,  that  the  transi- 
tion from  pagan  philosophy  to  Christian  theology,  from  the 
ancient  world  to  the  modern,  is  most  strongly  marked,  most 
clearly  observable. 

In  this  movement  of  mind,  it  was  not  likely  that  the  question 
of  the  nature  of  the  soul  should  remain  long  untouched.  From 
the  first  century  upwards,  we  find  it  the  subject  of  discussion 
amongst  the  doctors  of  the  church,  the  majority  of  whom 
adopted  the  material  hypothesis ;  passages  to  this  effect  are 
abundant.  I  will  select  two  or  three,  which  leave  no  doubt 
as  to  the  prevalent  opinion  on  this  subject.  Tertullian  says 
expressly : 

"  The  corporeality  of  the  soul  is  perfectly  manifest  to  all 
who  read  the  gospel.  The  soul  of  a  man  is  there  represented 
suffering  its  punishment  in  hell ;  it  is  placed  in  the  midst  of 
the  flame ;  it  feels  a  tormenting  agony  in  the  tongue,  and  it 
implores,  from  the  hand  of  a  soul  in  bliss,  a  drop  of  water  to 
cool  it.  .  .  There  can  be  nothing  of  all  this  without  the  pre* 
sence  of  the  body.  The  incorporeal  being  is  free  from  every 
description  of  restraint,  from  all  pain  or  from  all  pleasure,  for 
it  is  in  the  body  alone  that  man  is  punished  or  rewarded."1 

"  Who  does  not  see,"  asks  Arnobius,  "  that  that  which  i? 
ethereal,  immortal,  cannot  feel  pain."2 

"  We  conceive,"  says  St.  John  of  Damascus,  "  we  conceive 
of  incorporeal  and  of  invisible  beings,  in  two  ways :  by  essence 
and  by  grace ;  the  former  incorporeal  by  nature,  the  latter 
only  relatively,  and  in  comparison  with  the  grossness  of  mat- 
ter. Thus,  God  is  incorporeal  by  nature  ;  as  to  angels,  de 
vils,  and  men's  souls,  we  only  call  them  incorporeal  by  grace, 
and  comparatively  with  the  grossness  of  matter."3 

I  might  multiply  ad  infinitum  similar  quotations,  all  proving 


1  De  Animci,  5,  7. 

2  idversus  Gcntest\\.  l  De  Orthodoxafidf,  ii.  3, 12. 


130  HISTORY    OF 

that  in  the  first  ages  of  our  era,  the  materiality  of  the  sou 
was  not  only  the  admitted,  but  that  it  was  the  dominant  opinion. 

After  a  while,  the  church  manifested  a  tendency  to  quit 
this  opinion.  We  find  the  fathers  placing  before  themselves 
every  argument  in  favor  of  immateriality.  The  sentence  I 
have  just  quoted  from  St.  John  of  Damascus  itself  gives  a 
proof  of  this ;  you  find  him  laying  down  a  certain  distinction 
between  material  beings.  The  philosophical  fathers  entered 
upon  the  same  path,  and  advanced  in  it  with  more  rapid  strides. 
Origen,  for  instance,  is  so  astonished  at  the  idea  of  a  material 
soul  having  a  conception  of  immaterial  things,  and  arriving 
at  a  true  knowledge,  that  he  concludes  it  to  possess  a  certain 
relative  immortality,  that  is  to  say,  that  material  in  relation 
with  God,  the  only  being  truly  spiritual,  it  is  not  so  in  rela- 
tion with  earthly  things,  with  visible  and  sensual  bodies.1 

Such  was  the  course  of  ideas  in  the  heart  of  pagan  philo- 
sophy ;  in  its  first  essays  dominated  both  the  belief  in  the 
immateriality  of  the  soul,  and  at  the  same  time  a  certain  pro- 
gressive effort  to  conceive  the  soul  under  a  more  elevated,  a 
more  pure  aspect.  Some  made  of  it  a  vapor,  a  breath ; 
others  declared  it  a  fire ;  all  wished  to  purify,  to  refine,  to 
spiritualize  matter,  in  the  hope  of  arriving  at  the  end  to 
which  they  aspired.  The  same  desire,  the  same  tendency 
existed  in  the  Christian  church;  still  the  idea  of  the  mate- 
riality of  the  soul  was  more  general  among  the  Christian  doc- 
tors from  the  first  to  the  fifth  century,  than  among  the  pagan 
philosophers  of  the  same  period.  It  was  against  the  pagan 
philosophers,  and  in  the  name  of  the  religious  interest,  that 
certain  fathers  maintained  this  doctrine ;  they  wished  that  the 
soul  should  be  material  in  order  that  it  might  be  recompensed 
or  punished,  in  order  that  in  passing  to  another  life  it  might 
find  itself  in  a  state  analogous  to  that  in  which  it  had  been 
upon  earth ;  in  fine,  in  order  that  it  should  not  forget  how  in- 
ferior it  is  to  God,  and  never  be  tempted  to  compare  itself  with 
Him. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  a  kind  of  revolution  con- 
cerning this  point  was  wrought  in  the  breast  of  the  church  ; 
the  doctrine  of  the  immateriality  of  the  soul,  of  the  original 
and  essential  difference  of  the  two  substances,  appeared 
•here,  if  not  for  the  first  time,  at  least  far  more  positively, 
with  far  more   precision  than   hitherto.      It   was  professed 

1  Origen,  de  Principiis,  I.  i.,  c   I,  1.  2,  c.  2. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  181 

and  maintained — first,  in  Africa,  by  Saint  Augustin  in  hia 
treatise  de  quanlitate  Anima  ;  secondly,  in  Asia,  by  Neine- 
sius,  bishop  of  Emessa,  who  wrote  a  very  remarkable  work 
upon  the  nature  of  man  (wepi  ^v'«ot  avBp6«ov)  ;  thirdly,  in  Gaul, 
by  Mamertius  Claudienus,  de  natura  Animce.  Confined  to 
the  history  of  Gaulish  civilization,  this  last  is  the  only  one 
with  which  we  have  to  occupy  ourselves. 

This  is  the  occasion  upon  which  it  was  written.  A  man 
whom  you  already  know,  Faustus,  bishop  of  Riez,  exercised 
a  great  influence  in  the  Gaulish  church ;  born  a  Breton,  like 
Pelagius,  he  came — it  is  not  known  why — into  the  south  of 
Gaul.  He  became  a  monk  in  the  abbey  of  Lerins,  and  in  433 
was  made  abbot  of  it.  He  instituted  a  great  school,  where 
he  received  the  children  of  rich  parents,  and  brought  them 
up,  teaching  them  all  the  learning  of  the  age.  He  often  con- 
versed with  his  monks  upon  philosophical  questions,  and,  it 
appears,  was  remarkable  for  his  talent  of  improvisation. 
About  462  he  became  bishop  of  Riez.  I  have  spoken  of  the 
part  taken  by  him  in  the  semi-Pelagian  heresy,  and  of  his 
book  against  the  predestinarians.  He  was  of  an  active,  in- 
dependent spirit,  rather  intermeddling,  and  always  eager  to 
mix  in  all  the  quarrels  which  arose.  It  is  not  known  what 
called  his  attention  to  the  nature  of  the  soul :  he  treated  of  it 
at  length  in  a  long  philosophical  letter  addressed  to  a  bishop, 
and  in  which  many  other  questions  are  debated  ;  he  declares 
himself  for  materiality,  and  thus  sums  up  his  principal  argu- 
ments : 

1.  Invisible  things  are  of  one  kind,  incorporeal  things  of 
another. 

2.  Everything  created  is  matter,  tangible  by  the  Creator  j 
is  corporeal. 

3.  The  soul  occupies  a  place.  1.  It  is  enclosed  in  a  body. 
2.  It  is  not  to  be  found  wherever  its  thought  is.  3.  At  all 
events,  it  is  to  be  found  only  where  its  thought  is.  4.  It  is 
distinct  from  its  thoughts,  which  vary,  which  pass  on,  while  it 
is  permanent  and  always  the  same  ;  5.  It  quits  the  body  at 
death,  and  re-enters  it  by  the  resurrection  ;  witness  Lazarus ; 
6.  The  distinction  of  hell  and  heaven,  of  eternal  punishmenta 
and  rewards,  proves  that  even  after  death  souls  occupy  a 
place,  and  are  corporeal. 

4.  God  alone  is  incorporeal,  because  he  alone  is  intangible 
and  omnipresent.1 

1  I  have  adopted  the  text  of  Faustus,  inserted  in  the  edition  cf  th« 


132  HISTORY    OF 

These  propositions,  laid  down  in  so  unhesitating  and  dis- 
tinct a  manner,  are  not  elaborated  to  any  extent ;  and  such 
details  as  the  author  does  enter  into  are  taken  in  general 
from  the  theology,  narratives,  and  authority  of  the  holy 
scriptures. 

The  letter  of  Faustus,  which  was  circulated  anonymously, 
occasioned  considerable  excitement ;  Mamertius  Claudienus, 
brother  of  St.  Mamertius,  bishop  of  Vienne,  and  himself  a 
priest  in  that  diocese,  answered  it  in  his  treatise  On  the 
Nature  of  the  Soul,  a  work  of  far  higher  importance  than  the 
one  which  it  refuted.  Mamertius  Claudienus  was  in  his  day 
the  most  learned,  the  most  eminent  philosopher  of  southern 
Gaul ;  to  give  you  an  idea  of  his  reputation,  I  will  read  a 
letter  written  shortly  after  the  philosopher's  death,  to  his 
nephew  Petreius,  by  Sidonius  Appollinaris,  a  letter,  I  may 
observe,  stamped  with  all  the  ordinary  characteristics  of  this 
writer,  exhibiting  all  the  puerile  elaboration  of  the  professed 
bel  esprit,  with  here  and  there  just  perceptions,  and  curious 
facts. 

"sidonius  to  his  dear  petreius.2    health.3 

"  I  am  overwhelmed  with  affliction  at  the  loss  which  our 
age  has  sustained  in  the  recent  loss  of  your  uncle  Claudienus : 
we  shall  never  see  his  like  again.  He  was  full  of  wisdom  and 
judgment,  learned,  eloquent,  ingenious  ;  the  most  intellectual 
man  of  his  period,  of  his  country.  He  remained  a  philosopher, 
without  giving  offence  to  religion ;  and  though  he  did  not  in- 
dulge in  the  fancy  of  letting  his  hair  and  his  beard  grow, 
though  he  laughed  at  the  long  cloak  and  stick  of  the  philo- 
sophers, though  he  sometimes  even  warmly  reprehended  these 
fantastic  appendages,  it  was  only  in  such  matters  of  externals 
and  in  faith,  that  he  separated  from  his  friends  the  Platonists. 
God  of  Heaven !  what  happiness  was  ours  whenever  we  re- 
paired to  him  for  his  counsel.  How  readily  would  he  give 
himself  wholly  to  us,  without  an  -instant's  hesitation,  without 
a  word,  a  glance  of  anger  or  disdain,  ever  holding  it  his 
highest  pleasure  to  open  the  treasures  of  his  learning  to  those 
who  came  to  him  for  the  solution  of  some,  by  all  others  inso- 


Treatise  of  the  Nature  of  the  Soul,  by  Claudienus,  published,  with 
notes,  by  Andrew  Schoffand  Gaspard  Barth,  at  Zwickau,  in  1665. 
8  Son  of  the  sister  of  Mamertius  Claudienus.         s  Lib.  iv.,  ep.  ii. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  133 

luble,  question  !  Then,  when  all  of  us  were  seated  around 
him,  he  would  direct  all  to  be  silent,  but  him  to  whom — and 
it  was  ever  a  choice  which  we  ourselves  should  have  made — 
he  accorded  the  privilege  of  stating  the  proposition  ;  the 
question  thus  laid  before  him,  he  would  display  the  wealth  of 
his  learning  deliberately,  point  by  point,  in  perfect  order, 
without  the  least  artifice  of  gesture,  or  the  slightest  flourish  of 
language.  When  he  had  concluded  his  address,  we  stated 
our  objections  syllogistically  ;  he  never  failed  to  refute  at 
once  any  propositions  of  ours  which  were  not  based  upon 
sound  reason,  and  thus  nothing  was  admitted  without  under- 
going  mature  examination,  without  being  thoroughly  demon- 
strated. But  that  which  inspired  us  with  still  higher  respect, 
was  that  he  supported,  without  the  least  ill-humor,  the  dull 
obstinacy  of  some  amongst  us,  imputing  it  to  an  excusable 
motive,  we  all  the  while  admiring  his  patience,  though  un- 
able to  imitate  it.  No  one  could  fear  to  seek  the  counsel,  in 
difficult  cases,  of  a  man  who  rejected  no  discussion,  and 
refused  to  answer  no  question,  even  on  the  part  of  the  most 
foolish  and  ignorant  persons.  Thus  much  for  his  learning  : 
enough  concerning  his  studies  and  his  science ;  but  who  can 
worthily  and  suitably  praise  the  other  virtues  of  that  man, 
who,  always  remembering  the  weakness  of  humanity,  assisted 
the  priests  with  his  work,  the  people  with  his  discourses,  the 
afflicted  with  his  exhortations,  the  forsaken  with  his  con- 
solations, prisoners  with  his  gold  ;  the  hungry  received 
food  from  him,  the  naked  were  clothed  by  him.  It  would,  I 
think,  be  equally  superfluous  to  say  any  more  upon  this 
subject.  .  .  . 

"  Here  is  what  we  wished  to  have  said  at  first :  in  honor  ot 
the  ungrateful  ashes,  as  Virgil  says,  that  is  to  say,  which 
cannot  give  us  thanks  for  what  we  say,  we  have  composed 
a  sad  and  piteous^lamentation,  not  without  much  trouble, 
por  having  dictated  nothing  for  so  long,  we  found  unusual 
difficulty  therein  ;  nevertheless,  our  mind,  naturally  indolent, 
was  reanimated  by  a  sorrow  which  desired  to  break  into  tears. 
This,  then,  is  the  purport  of  the  verses: 

"  '  Under  this  turf  reposes  Claudienus,  the  pride  and  sorrow 
of  his  brother  Mamertius,  honored  like  a  precious  stone  by 
ill  the  bishops.  In  this  master  flourished  a  triple  science, 
that  of  Rome,  that  of  Athens,  and  that  of  Christ :  and  in  the 
vigor  of  his  age,  a  simple  monk,  he  achieved  it  completely 
and  in  secret.     Orator,  dialectician,  ooet,  a  doctor  learned  in 


134  HISTORY  OF 

the  sacred  books,  geometrician,  musician,  he  excelled  it 
unravelling  the  most  difficult  questions,  he  struck  with  the 
sword  of  words  the  sects  which  attacked  the  Catholic  faith. 
Skilful  at  setting  the  psalms  and  singing,  in  front  "of  the 
altars,  and  to  the  great  gratitude  of  his  brother,  he  taught 
men  to  sound  instruments  of  music.  He  regulated,  for 
the  solemn  feasts  of  the  year,  what  in  each  case  should  be 
read.  He  was  a  priest  of  the  second  order,  and  relieved  his 
brother  from  the  weight  of  the  episcopacy  ;  for  his  brother 
bore  the  ensigns,  and  he  all  the  duty.  You,  therefore, 
reader,  who  afflict  yourself  as  if  nothing  remained  of  such 
a  man,  whoever  you  be,  cease  to  sprinkle  your  cheeks  and  this 
marble  with  tears  ;  the  soul  and  the  glory  cannot  be  buried  in 
the  tomb.' 

"  These  are  the  lines  I  have  engraved  over  the  remains 
of  him  who  was  a  brother  to  all  ...  ." 

It  was  to  Sidonius  that  Mamertius  Claudienus  had  dedi- 
cated his  work. 

It  is  divided  into  three  books.  The  first  is  the  only  truly 
philosophical  one ;  the  question  is  there  examined  in  itself, 
independently  of  every  special  fact,  of  all  authority,  and  under 
a  purely  rational  point  of  view.  In  the  second  the  author 
invokes  authorities  to  his  aid  ;  first  that  of  the  Greek  philoso- 
phers— then,  that  of  the  Roman  philosophers — lastly,  the  sacred 
writings,  Saint  Paul,  the  Evangelists,  and  the  fathers  of  the 
church.  The  special  object  of  the  third  book  is  to  explain, 
in  the  system  of  the  spirituality  of  the  soul,  certain  events, 
certain  traditions  of  the  Christian  religion  ;  for  example,  the 
resurrection  of  Lazarus,  the  existence  of  the  angels,  the  appa- 
rition of  the  angel  Gabriel  to  the  Virgin  Mary;  and  to  show 
that,  so  far  from  contradicting  them,  or  being  embarrassed  by 
them,  this  system  admits  them  and  makes  at  least  as  much  of 
them  as  any  other.    '  • 

The  classification  is  not  as  rigorous  as  I  have  made  it  out : 
the  ideas  and  arguments  are  often  mixed  ;  philosophical  dis- 
cussions appear  here  and  there  in  the  books  which  are  not 
devoted  to  them  ;  still,  upon  the  whole,  the  work  is  not  Mint- 
ing in  either  method  or  precision. 

I  shall  now  place  before  you  the  summary  of  it,  as  prepared 
by  Mamertius  Claudienus  himself,  in  ten  theses  or  fundamental 
propositions,  in  the  last  chapter  but  one  of  the  third  book.  I 
shall  then  literally  translate  some  passages,  which  will  enable 
you  to  understand,  on  one  hand,  with  what  profundity  and 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  135 

with  what  force  of  mind  the  author  has  penetrated  into  the 
question ;  on  the  other,  what  absurd  and  fantastical  conceptions 
could,  at  this  epoch,  be  combined  with  the  most  elevated  and 
the  most  just  ideas. 

"  Since  many  of  the  things  which  I  have  asserted  in  this 
discussion,"  says  Mamertius  Claudienus,  "  are  scattered,  and 
might  not  easily  be  retained,  I  wish  to  bring  them  together, 
compress  them,  place  them,  so  to  speak,  in  a  single  point, 
under  the  mind's  eyes. 

"  1st.  God  is  incorporeal ;  the  human  soul  is  the  image  of 
God,  for  man  was  made  in  the  image  and  likeness  of  God. 
Now  a  body  cannot  be  the  image  of  an  incorporeal  being ; 
therefore  the  human  soul,  which  is  the  image  of  God,  is  in- 
corporeal. 

"  2d.  Everything  which  does  not  occupy  a  determined 
place  is  incorporeal.  Now  the  soul  is  the  life  of  the  body  ; 
and,  living  in  the  body,  each  part  lives  as  truly  as  the  whole 
body.  There  is,  therefore,  in  each  part  of  the  body,  as  much 
life  as  in  the  whole  body ;  and  the  soul  is  that  life.  Thus, 
that  which  is  as  great  in  the  part  as  in  the  whole,  in  a  small 
6pace  as  in  a  large,  occupies  no  space  ;  therefore  the  soul 
occupies  no  place.  That  which  occupies  no  place  is  not 
corporeal ;  therefore  the  soul  is  not  corporeal. 

"  3d.  The  soul  reasons,  and  the  faculty  of  reasoning  is  in- 
herent in  the  substance  of  the  soul.  Now  the  reason  is  in- 
corporeal, occupies  no  position  in  space  ;  therefore  the  soul  is 
incorporeal. 

"  4th.  The  will  of  the  soul  is  its  very  substance,  and  when 
the  soul  chooses  it  is  all  will.  Now  will  is  not  a  body ;  there- 
fore the  soul  is  not  a  body. 

"  5th.  Even  so  the  memory  is  a  capacity  which  has  nothing 
local ;  it  is  not  widened  in  order  to  remember  more  of  things ; 
it  is  not  contracted  when  it  remembers  less  of  things  ;  it  im- 
materially remembers  material  things.  And  when  the  soul 
remembers,  it  remembers  entire ;  it  is  all  recollection.  Now, 
the  recollection  is  not  a  body ;  therefore  the  soul  is  not  a 
body. 

"  6th.  The  body  feels  the  impression  of  touch  in  the  part 
jouched ;  the  whole  soul  feels  the  impression,  not  by  the  entire 
body,  but  in  a  part  of  the  body.  A  sensation  of  this  kind 
has  nothing  local ;  now  what  has  nothing  local  is  incorporeal ; 
therefore  the  soul  is  incorporeal. 

"7th.  The  body  can  neither  approach  nor  absent  itself 


136  HISTORY   OF 

from  God ;  the  soul  does  approach  and  does  absent  itself 
from  them  without  changing  its  place  ;  therefore  the  soul  is 
not  a  body. 

"  8th.  The  body  moves  through  a  place,  from  one  place  to 
another ;  the  soul  has  no  similar  movement ;  therefore  the 
soul  is  not  a  body. 

"  9th.  The  body  has  length,  breadth,  and  depth ;  and  that 
which  has  neither  length,  breadth,  nor  depth,  is  not  a  body. 
The  soul  has  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  therefore  the  soul  is  not 
a  body. 

"  10th.  There  is  in  all  bodies  the  right  hand  and  the  left — 
the  upper  part  and  the  lower  part,  the  front  and  the  back ;  in 
the  soul  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind ;  therefore  the  soul  is  in- 
corporeal."1 

Here  are  some  of  the  principal  developments  in  support  of 
these  propositions  : 

"  I.  You  say  that  the  soul  is  one  thing,  the  thought  of  the 
soul  another :  you  ought  rather  to  say,  that  the  things  upon 
which  the  soul  thinks  .  .  .  are  not  the  soul ;  but  thought  is 
nothing  but  the  soul  itself. 

"  The  soul,  you  say,  is  in  such  profound  repose,  that  it  has 
ao  thought  at  all.  This  is  not  true ;  the  soul  can  change  its 
thought,  but  not  be  without  thought  altogether. 

"  What  do  our  dreams  signify  if  not  that,  even  when  the 
body  is  fatigued  and  immersed  in  sleep,  the  soul  ceases  not  to 
think  ? 

"  What  greatly  deceives  you  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
soul,  is  that  you  believe  that  the  soul  is  one  thing,  and  its 
faculties  another.  What  the  soul  thinks  is  an  accident,  but 
that  which  thinks  is  the  substance  of  the  soul  itself.2 

"  II.  The  soul  sees  that  which  is  corporeal  through  the 
medium  of  the  body ;  what  is  incorporeal  it  sees  by  itself. 
Without  the  intervention  of  the  body,  it  could  see  nothing 
corporeal,  colored,  or  extensive  ;  but  it  sees  truth,  and  sees 
it  with  an  immaterial  view.  If,  as  you  pretend,  the  soul, 
corporeal  itself,  and  confined  within  an  external  body,  can  see 
of  itself  a  corporeal  object,  surely  nothing  can  be  more  easy 
to  it  than  to  see  the  interior  of  that  body  in  which  it  is  con- 
fined. Well,  then,  to  this — apply  yourself  to  this  work  ; 
direct  inward  this  corporeal  view  of  the  soul,  as  you  call  it ; 


1  Book  iii.,  chap.  14,  pp.  201,  202. 
*  Book  i.,  chap.  24,  p.  83 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  137 

tell  us  how  the  brain  is  disposed,  where  the  mass  of  the  liver 
is  situated  ;  where  and  what  is  the  spleen  .  .  .  what  are  the 
windings  and  texture  of  the  veins,  the  origin  of  the  nerves  ? 
.  .  .  How !  you  deny  that  you  are  called  upon  to  answer 
concerning  such  things :  and  wherefore  do  you  denv  it  ?  Be- 
cause the  soul  cannot  see  directly  and  of  itself  corporeal  things. 
Why  can  it  not,  then,  that  which  is  never  without  thinking — 
that  is  to  say,  without  seeing  ?  Because  it  cannot  see  corpo- 
real objects  without  the  medium  of  the  corporeal  view.  Now, 
the  soul  which  sees  certain  things  of  itself,  but  not  corporeal 
things,  sees,  therefore,  with  an  incorporeal  view  ;  now  an  in- 
corporeal being  can  alone  see  with  an  incorporeal  view ;  there- 
fore the  soul  is  incorporeal.1 

"  III.  If  the  soul  is  a  body,  what  then  is  that  which  the  soul 
calls  its  body,  if  not  itself?  Either  the  soul  is  a  body,  and  in 
that  case  it  is  wrong  to  say  my  body,  it  ought  rather  to  say 
me,  since  it  is  itself;  or  if  the  soul  is  right  in  saying  my  body, 
as  we  suppose,  it  is  not  a  body.2 

"  IV.  It  is  not  without  reason  that  it  is  said  that  memory  is 
common  to  men  and  to  animals ;  storks  and  swallows  return 
to  their  nest,  horses  to  their  stable  ;  dogs  recognize  their  mas- 
ter. But  as  the  soul  of  animals,  although  they  retain  the 
image  of  places,  has  no  knowledge  of  its  own  being,  they 
remain  confined  to  the  recollection  of  corporeal  objects  which 
they  have  seen  by  the  bodily  senses ;  and,  deprived  of  the 
mind's  eye,  they  are  incapable  of  seeing,  not  only  what  is 
above  them,  but  themselves.3 

"  V.  A  formidable  syllogism,  which  is  thought  insolvable, 
is  addressed  to  us  ;  the  soul,  it  is  said,  is  where  it  is,  and  is 
not  where  it  is  not.  The  anticipation  is,  that  we  shall  be 
driven  to  say,  either  that  it  is  everywhere,  or  that  it  is  no- 
where :  and  then  it  will  be  rejoined,  if  it  is  everywhere,  it  is 
God ;  if  it  is  nowhere,  it  is  non-existent.  The  soul  is  not 
wholly  in  the  whole  world,  but  in  the  same  way  that  God  is 
wholly  in  the  whole  universe,  so  the  soul  is  wholly  in  the 
whole  body.  God  does  not  fill  with  the  smallest  part  of  him- 
self the  smallest  part  of  the  world,  and  with  the  largest  the 
largest ;  he  is  wholly  in  every  part  and  wholly  in  the  whole  ; 
so  the  soul  does  not  reside  in  parts  in  the  various  parts  of  the 


1  Book  iii.,  chap.  9,  pp.  187,  188.  s  Book  i.,  chap.  10,  p   53. 

'Book  i  ,  chap.  21,  p.  05. 


138  HISTORY    OF 

body.  It  is  not  one  part  of  the  soul  which  looks  forth  through 
the  eye  and  another  which  animates  the  finger ;  the  whole 
soul  lives  in  the  eye  and  sees  by  the  eye,  the  whole  soul  ani- 
mates the  finger  and  feels  by  the  finger,1 

"  VI.  The  soul  which  feels  in  the  body,  though  it  feels  by 
visible  organs,  feels  invisibly.  The  eye  is  one  thing,  seeing 
another :  the  ears  are  one  thing,  hearing  another ;  the  nostrils 
are  one  thing,  smelling  another ;  the  mouth  one  thing,  eating 
another ;  the  hand  one  thing,  touching  another.  We  dis- 
tinguish by  the  touch  what  is  hot  and  what  cold ;  but  we  do 
not  touch  the  sensation  of  the  touch,  which  in  itself  is  neither 
hot  nor  cold  ;  the  organ  by  which  we  feel  is  a  perfectly  dif- 
ferent thing  from  the  sensation  of  which  we  are  sensible."2 

You  will  readily  admit  that  these  ideas  are  deficient  neither 
in  elevation  nor  profundity  ;  they  would  do  honor  to  the  phi- 
losophers of  any  period ;  seldom  have  the  nature  of  the  soul 
and  its  unity  been  investigated  more  closely  or  described  with 
greater  precision.  I  might  quote  many  other  passages  re- 
markable for  the  subtlety  of  perception,  or  energy  of  debate, 
and,  at  times,  for  a  profound  moral  emotion,  and  a  genuine 
eloquence. 

I  will  read  to  you  two  extracts  from  the  same  book  of  the 
same  man ;  Mamertius  Claudienus  is  replying  to  the  argu- 
ment of  Faustus,  who  maintains  that  the  soul  is  formed  of  air, 
reasoning  upon  the  ancient  theory  which  regarded  air,  fire, 
earth,  and  water,  as  the  four  essential  elements  of  nature : 
"  Fire,"  says  he,  "  is  evidently  a  superior  element  to  air,  as 
well  by  the  place  which  it  occupies  as  by  its  intrinsic  power. 
This  is  proved  by  the  movement  of  the  terrestrial  fire,  which, 
with  an  almost  incomprehensible  rapidity,  and  by  its  own 
natural  impulse,  reascends  towards  heaven  as  towards  its  own 
country.  If  this  proof  be  not  sufficient,  here  is  another :  the 
air  is  illumined  by  the  presence  of  the  sun,  that  is  to  say  fire, 
and  falls  into  darkness  in  its  absence.  And  a  still  more  pow- 
erful reason  is,  that  air  undergoes  the  action  of  fire  and  be- 
comes heated,  while  fire  does  not  undergo  the  action  of  air, 
and  is  never  made  cold  by  it.  Air  may  be  inclosed  and  re- 
tained in  vases ;  fire  never.  The  preeminence  of  fire,  then, 
is  clearly  incontestable.  Now,  it  is  from  fire  (that  is  to  say, 
from  its  light)  that  we  derive  the  faculty  of  sight,  a  faculty 


Book  iii.,  chap.  2,  p.  164.  *  Book  i.,  chap.  6,  p.  31 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  139 

common  to  men  and  to  animals,  and  in  which,  indeed,  certain 
irrational  animals  far  surpass  man  in  point  of  both  strength 
and  of  delicacy.  If,  then,  which  is  undeniable,  sight  proceeds 
from  fire,  and  if  the  soul,  as  you  think,  is  formed  of  air,  it 
follows  that  the  eye  of  animals  is,  as  to  its  substance,  superior 
in  dignity  to  the  soul  of  man."1 

This  learned  confusion  of  material  facts  and  of  intellectual 
facts,  this  attempt  to  establish  a  sort  of  hierarchy  of  merit 
and  of  rank  among  the  elements,  in  order  to  deduce  from 
them  philosophical  consequences,  are  curious  evidences  of  the 
infancy  of  science  and  of  thought. 

I  will  now  quote,  in  favor  of  the  immateriality  of  the  soul, 
an  argument  of  as  little  value  in  itself,  but  less  fantastic  in 
its  outward  appearance.  "  Every  incorporeal  being  is  supe- 
rior, in  natural  dignity,  to  a  corporeal  being ;  every  being 
not  confined  within  a  certain  space,  to  a  localized  being ;  every 
indivisible  being  to  a  divisible  being.  Now,  if  the  Creator, 
sovereignly  powerful  and  sovereignly  good,  has  not  created, 
as  he  ought  to  have  done,  a  substance  superior  to  the  body, 
and  similar  to  himself,  it  is  either  that  he  could  not  or  would 
not ;  if  he  would,  and  could  not,  almightiness  was  wanting 
to  him ;  if  he  could  and  would  not  (the  mere  thought  is  a 
crime),  it  could  only  have  been  through  jealousy.  Now,  it 
is  impossible  that  the  sovereign  power  cannot  do  what  it  wills, 
that  sovereign  goodness  can  be  jealous.  It  results  that  he 
both  could  and  would  create  the  incorporeal  being ;  final 
result,  he  did  create  it."2 

Was  I  wrong  in  speaking  just  now  of  the  strange  combi- 
nations, the  mixture  of  high  truths  and  gross  errors,  of  admi- 
rable views  and  ridiculous  conceptions,  which  characterize 
the  writings  of  this  period.  Those  of  Mamertius  Claud ienus, 
I  may  add,  present  fewer  of  these  contrasts  than  do  those  of 
most  of  his  contemporaries. 

You  are  sufficiently  acquainted  with  this  writer  to  appre- 
ciate his  character ;  taken  as  a  whole,  his  work  is  rather 
philosophical  than  theological,  and  yet  the  religious  principle 
is  manifestly  predominant  throughout,  for  the  idea  of  God  is 
the  starting  point  of  every  discussion  in  it.  The  author  does 
not  commence  by  observing  and  describing  human,  special, 
actual  facts,  proceeding  through  them  up  to  the  Divinity : 
God  is  with  him  the  primitive,  universal,  evident  fact ;  the 

1  Book  i.,  chap.  9,  p.  38  *  Book  i.,  chap  5,  p.  26. 


140  HISTORY    OF 

fundamental  datum  to  which  all  things  relate,  and  with  which 
all  things  must  agree ;  he  invariably  descends  from  God  to 
man,  deducing  our  own  from  the  Divine  nature.  It  is  evi- 
dently from  religion,  and  not  from  science,  that  he  borrows 
this  method.  But  this  cardinal  point  once  established,  this 
logical  plan  once  laid  down,  it  is  from  philosophy  that  he 
draws,  in  general,  both  his  ideas  and  his  manner  of  expressing 
them ;  his  language  is  of  the  school,  not  of  the  church ;  he 
appeals  to  reason,  not  to  faith ;  we  perceive  in  him,  sometimes 
the  academician,  sometimes  the  stoic,  more  frequently  the 
platonist,  but  always  the  philosopher,  never  the  priest,  though 
the  Christian  is  apparent,  is  manifest  in  every  page. 

I  have  thus  exhibited  the  fact  which  I  indicated  in  the  out- 
set, the  fusion  of  pagan  philosophy  with  Christian  theology, 
the  metamorphosis  of  the  one  into  the  other.  And  it  is  re- 
markable, that  the  reasoning  applied  to  the  establishment  of 
the  spirituality  of  the  soul  is  evidently  derived  from  the  an- 
cient philosophy  rather  than  from  Christianity,  and  that  the 
author  seems  more  especially  to  aim  at  convincing  the  theo- 
logians, by  proving  to  them  that  the  Christian  faith  has  no- 
thing in  all  this  which  is  not  perfectly  reconcilable  with  the 
results  derived  from  pure  reason. 

It  might  be  thought  that  this  transition  from  ancient  philo- 
sophy to  modern  theology  would  be  more  manifest,-  more 
strongly  marked  in  the  dialogue  of  the  Christian  Zacheus 
and  the  philosopher  Apollonius,  by  the  monk  Evagrius,  where 
the  two  doctrines,  the  two  societies,  are  directly  confronted 
and  called  upon  to  discuss  their  respective  merits ;  but  the 
discussion  is  only  in  appearance,  exists,  in  fact,  only  on  the 
title-page.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  any  work,  with  any 
monument,  which  proves  more  clearly  the  utter  indifference 
with  which  the  popular  mind  regarded  paganism.  The  phi- 
losopher  Apollonius  opens  the  dialogue  in  an  arrogant  tone, 
as  if  about  utterly  to  overwhelm  the  Christian,  and  to  deliver 
over  to  general  scorn  any  arguments  which  he  may  adduce.1 
"  If  you  examine  the  matter  with  care,"  says  he,  "  you  will 
see  that  all  other  religions  and  all  other  sacred  rites  had 
rational  origins ;  whereas,  your  creed  is  so  utterly  vain  and 
irrational,  that  it  seems  to  me  none  but  a  madman  could 
entertain  it." 


1  Dialogue   of  Zacheus   and   Apollonius,   in  the    Spicilegiwn  of 
D'Achery,  vol.  x.,  p.  3. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  141 

But  this  arrogance  is  sterile :  throughout  the  dialogue 
Apollonius  does  not  advance  one  single  argument,  one  solitary 
idea;  he  proves  nothing,  he  confutes  nothing;  he.  does  not 
open  his  lips  except  to  suggest  a  topic  to  Zacheus,  who,  on 
his  part,  takes  no  notice  whatever  of  paganism  nor  of  the 
philosophy  of  his  adversary,  does  not  refute  them,  scarcely 
makes  here  and  there  an  allusion  to  them,  and  only  occupies 
himself  relating  history  and  describing  the  Christian  faith  so 
as  to  show  forth  its  entirety  and  authority.  Doubtless,  the 
book  is  the  work  of  a  Christian,  and  the  silence  which  he 
makes  his  philosophers  preserve  does  not  prove  that  philoso- 
phers were  really  silent.  But  such  is  by  no  means  the  cha- 
racter of  the  first  debates  of  Christianity  with  the  ancient 
philosophy,  when  the  latter  was  still  living  and  powerful. 
Christianity  at  that  time  condescended  to  notice  the  arguments 
of  its  adversaries ;  it  spoke  of  them,  it  •  refuted  them ;  the 
controversy  was  a  real  and  an  animated  one.  In  the  work 
before  us  there  is  no  longer  any  controversy  at  all ;  the 
Christian  indoctrinates  and  catechises  the  philosopher,  and 
seems  to  consider  that  this  is  all  that  can  be  required  of  him. 

Nay,  he  even  makes  this  a  matter  of  concession,  a  favor ; 
discussions  with  pagans  had  by  this  time  become  a  sort  of 
superfluity  in  the  eyes  of  Christians. 

"  Many  persons,"  says  Evagrius,  in  the  preface  to  his 
book,  "think  that  we  should  despise,  rather  than  refute,  the 
objections  advanced  by  the  Gentiles,  so  vain  are  they,  so 
devoid  of  true  wisdom ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  such  scorn  were 
worse  than  useless.  I  see  two  advantages  in  instructing  the 
Gentiles ;  in  the  first  place,  we  prove  to  all  how  holy  and 
simple  our  religion  is ;  and  secondly,  the  heathen  thus  in- 
structed come  at  last  to  believe  that  which,  unknowing,  they 
had  despised.  . .  .  Besides,  by  approaching  the  candle  to  the 
eyes  of  the  blind,  if  they  do  not  see  its  light,  they  at  all 
events  feel  its  warmth."  This  last  phrase  appears  to  me  a 
fine  one,  full  of  a  sympathetic  sentiment. 

There  is  one  thing  only  which  appears  to  me  remarkable 
in  this  dialogue ;  it  is  that  here  the  question  is  broadly  laid 
down  between  rationalism  and  the  Christian  revelation ;  not 
that  this  subject  is  more  really  or  more  extensively  developed 
than  any  other :  it  is  only  in  a  few  sentences  that  the  idea 
manifests  itself,  but  from  these  it  is  evident  that  the  question 
was  full  in  the  minds  of  all  controversialists,  and  formed,  as 
it  were,  the  last  intrenchment  behind  which  philosophy  de- 

21 


J  42  HISTORY    OF 

fended  itself.  Apollonius,  as  you  have  seen,  makes  it  an 
especial  charge  against  the  Christian  doctrine  that  it  is  irra. 
tional ;  to  this  Zacheus  replies :  "  It  is  easy  for  every  one  to 
understand  and  appreciate  God,  that  is  to  say,  if  the  Divine 
Word  is  compatible  with  your  notion  of  wisdom  ...  for  your 
view  is,  that  the  sage  believes  nothing  out  of  himself,  that  he 
is  never  deceived,  but  that  he  of  himself  knows  all  things 
infallibly,  not  admitting  that  there  is  anything  whatever 
either  hidden  or  unknown,  or  that  anything  is  more  possible 
to  the  Creator  than  to  the  creature.  And  it  is  more  especially 
against  the  Christians  that  you  make  use  of  this  mode  of 
reasoning."1  And  elsewhere :  "  The  understanding  follows 
faith,  and  the  human  mind  knows  only  through  faith  the 
higher  things  which  come  near  God."a 

It  were  a  curious  study  to  consider  the  state  of  rationalism 
at  this  period,  the  causes  of  its  ruin,  and  its  efforts,  its  various 
transformations  in  order  to  avert  that  ruin :  but  it  is  an  inquiry 
which  would  carry  us  too  far,  and,  besides,  it  was  not  in  Gaul 
that  the  grand  struggle  between  rationalism  and  Christianity 
took  place. 

The  second  dialogue  of  Evagrius,  between  the  Christian 
Theophilus  and  the  Jew  Simon,  is  of  no  sort  of  importance ; 
it  is  a  mere  commentary,  a  mere  trifling  controversy  on  a  few 
scriptural  texts. 

I  might  mention  to  you,  and  make  extracts  from,  a  great 
number  of  other  works  of  the  same  period  and  the  same  class. 
This,  however,  were  unnecessary,  as  I  have  selected  from 
among  them  the  two  most  remarkable,  the  most  characteristic, 
the  most  calculated  to  convey  an  accurate  idea  of  the  state  of 
mind,  and  of  its  activity  at  this  period.  That  activity  was 
great,  though  exclusively  confined  within  the  limits  of  the 
religious  society ;  whatever  vigor  and  life  had  remained  to 
the  ancient  philosophy,  passed  over  to  the  service  of  the  Chris- 
tians ;  it  was  under  the  religious  form,  and  in  the  very  bosom 
of  Christianity,  that  were  reproduced  the  ideas,  the  schools, 
the  whole  science  of  the  philosophers ;  but  subject  to  this  con- 
dition, they  still  occupied  men's  minds,  and  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  moral  state  of  the  new  society. 

It  was  this  movement  which  was  arrested  by  the  invasion 
of  the  barbarians  and  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire :  a  hundred 


1  Page  3.  !  Page  9. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE-  143 

yeais  later  we  do  not  find  the  slightest  trace  of  what  I  have 
been  describing  to  you  ;  the  discussions,  the  travels,  the  cor- 
respondence,  the  pamphlets,  the  whole  intellectual  activity  of 
Gaul  in  the  seventh  century,  all  these  had  disappeared. 

Was  this  loss  of  any  consequence  ?  was  the  movement  thua 
put  a  stop  to  by  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians  an  important 
and  fruitful  movement  ?  I  doubt  it  very  much.  You  will 
perhaps  remember  my  observations  on  the  essentially  practical 
character  of  Christianity;  intellectual  progress,  science,  espe- 
cially so  called,  was  not  at  all  its  aim ;  and  although  it  had  a 
connexion  upon  several  points  with  the  ancient  philosophy— 
though  it  had  been  very  willing  to  appropriate  the  ideas  of  tha. 
philosophy,  and  to  make  the  most  of  it,  it  was  by  no  means 
anxious  for  its  preservation,  nor  to  replace  it  by  any  othei 
philosophy.  To  change  the  manners,  to  govern  the  life  0/ 
men,  was  the  predominant  idea  of  its  leaders. 

Moreover,  notwithstanding  the  freedom  of  mind  which  prac 
tically  existed  in  the  fifth  century,  in  the  religious  society - 
the  principle  of  liberty  made  no  progress  there.  It  was,  on 
the  contrary,  the  principle  of  authority,  of  the  official  domina- 
tion over  intellect  by  general  and  fixed  rules,  which  sought 
the  ascendency.  Though  still  powerful,  intellectual  liberty 
was  on  the  decline ;  authority  was  rapidly  taking  its  place  ; 
every  page  of  the  writings  of  this  period  proves  the  fact.  It 
was,  indeed,  the  almost  inevitable  result  of  the  very  nature 
of  the  Christian  reformation ;  morat,  rather  than  scientific,  it 
proposed  to  itself  as  its  leading  aim  to  establish  a  law,  to  go- 
vern men's  will ;  it  was  consequently  authority  that  was  above 
all  things  needful  to  it ;  authority  in  xhe  existing  state  of  man- 
ners was  its  surest,  it  smost  efficacious  means  of  action. 

Now,  what  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians,  and  the  fall  of 
the  Roman  empire  more  especially  arrested,  even  destroyed, 
was  intellectual  movement ;  what  remained  of  science,  of 
philosophy,  of  the  liberty  of  mind  in  the  fifth  century,  dis- 
appeared under  their  blows.  But  the  moral  movement,  the 
practical  reformation  of  Christianity,  and  the  official  establish- 
ment of  its  authority  over  nations,  were  not  in  any  way  af- 
fected ;  perhaps  even  they  gained  instead  of  losing :  this  at 
least,  I  think,  is  what  the  history  of  our  civilization,  in  propor- 
tion as  we  advance  in  its  course,  will  allow  us  to  conjecture. 

The  invasion  of  the  barbarians,  therefore,  did  not  in  any 
way  kill  what  possessed  life ;  at  bottom,  intellectual  activity 
and  liberty  were  in  decay ;  everything  leads  us  to  believe 


144  HISTORY    OF 

that  they  would  have  stopped  of  themselves ;  the  barbarians 
stopped  them  more  rudely  and  sooner.  That,  I  believe,  is  al . 
that  can  be  imputed  to  them. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  the  limits  to  which  we  should  con- 
fine ourselves,  to  the  end  of  the  picture  of  the  Roman  society 
in  Gaul  at  the  time  when  it  fell :  we  are  acquainted  with  it, 
if  not  completely,  at  least  in  its  essential  features.  In  order 
to  prepare  ourselves  to  understand  the  society  which  followed 
it,  we  have  now  to  study  the  new  element  which  mixed  with 
it,  the  barbarians.  Their  state  before  the  invasion,  before 
they  came  to  overthrow  the  Roman  society,  and  were  changed 
under  its  influence,  will  form  the  subject  of  our  next  lecture. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  145 


SEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Of  the  Germanic  element  in  modern  civiliza- 
tion— Of  the  monuments  of  the  ancient  social  state  of  the  Get- 
mans:  1.  Of  the  Roman  and  Greek  historians;  2.  Of  the  barbaric 
laws ;  3.  Of  national  traditions — They  relate  to  very  different  epochs 
— They  are  often  made  use  of  promiscuously — Error  which  results 
therefrom — The  work  of  Tacitus  concerning  the  manners  of  the 
Germans — Opinions  of  the  modern  German  writers  concerning  the 
ancient  Germanic  state — What  kind  of  life  prevailed  there  ?  was  it 
the  wandering  life,  or  the  sedentary  life  ? — Of  the  institutions — Of 
the  moral  state — Comparison  between  the  state  of  the  German  tribes 
and  that  of  other  hordes — Fallacy  of  most  of  the  views  of  barbarous 
life — Principal  characteristics  of  the  true  influence  of  the  Germans 
upon  modern  civilization. 

We  approach  successively  the  various  sources  of  our  civili- 
zation. We  have  already  studied,  on  one  side,  what  we  call 
the  Roman  element,  the  civil  Roman  society  ;  on  the  other, 
the  Christian  element,  the  religious  society.  Let  us  now  con- 
sider the  barbaric  element,  the  German  society. 

Opinions  are  very  various  concerning  the  importance  of  this 
element,  concerning  the  part  and  share  of  the  Germans  in 
modern  civilization ;  the  prejudices  of  nation,  of  situation,  of 
class,  have  modified  the  idea  which  each  has  formed  of  it. 

The  German  historians,  the  feudal  publicists,  M.  de  Bou- 
lainvilliers,  for  example,  have  in  general  attributed  too  exten- 
sive an  influence  to  the  barbarians ;  the  burgher  publicists,  as 
the  abb6  Dubos,  have,  on  the  contrary,  too  much  reduced  it, 
in  order  to  give  far  too  large  a  part  to  Roman  society;  accord- 
ing to  the  ecclesiastics,  it  is  to  the  church  that  modern  civili- 
zation is  the  most  indebted.  Sometimes  political  doctrines 
have  alone  determined  the  opinion  of  the  writer ;  the  abbe  de 
Mably,  all  devoted  as  he  was  to  the  popular  cause,  and  despite 
his  antipathy  for  the  feudal  system,  insists  strongly  upon  the 
German  origins,  because  he  thought  to  find  there  more  insti- 
tutions and  principles  of  liberty  than  anywhere  else.  I  do 
not  wish  to  treat  at  present  of  this  question ;  we  shall  treat  of 
it,  it  will  be  resolved  as  we  advance  in  the  history  of  French 
civilization      We  shall  see  from  epoch  to  epoch  what  part 


146  HISTORY    OF 

» 

each  of  its  primitive  elements  has  there  played,  what  each  has 
brought  and  received  in  their  combination.  I  shall  confine 
myself  to  asserting  beforehand  the  two  results  to  which  I  be- 
lieve this  study  will  conduct  us : — First,  that  the  state  of  the 
barbaric  element  in  modern  civilization  has,  in  general,  been 
made  a  great  deal  too  much  of.  Second,  its  true  share  has 
not  been  given  it :  too  great  an  influence  upon  our  society  has 
been  attributed  to  the  Germans,  to  their  institutions,  to  their 
manners  ;  what  they  have  truly  exercised  has  not  been  attri. 
buted  to  them ;  we  do  not  owe  to  them  all  that  has  been  done 
in  their  name ;  we  do  owe  to  them  what  seems  not  to  proceed 
from  them. 

Until  this  twofold  result  shall  arise  under  our  eyes,  from 
the  progressive  development  of  facts,  the  first  condition,  in 
order  to  appreciate  with  accuracy  the  share  of  the  Germanic 
element  in  our  civilization,  is  to  correctly  understand  what 
the  Germans  really  were  at  the  time  when  it  commenced, 
when  they  themselves  concurred  in  its  formation ;  that  is  to 
say,  before  their  invasion  and  their  establishment  on  the  Ro- 
man territory;  when  they  still  inhabited  Germany  in  the  third 
and  fourth  centuries.  By  this  alone  shall  we  be  enabled  to 
form  an  exact  idea  of  what  they  brought  to  the  common  work, 
to  distinguish  what  facts  are  truly  of  German  origin. 

This  study  is  difficult.  The  monuments  where  we  may 
study  the  barbarians  before  the  invasion  are  of  three  kinds ; 
first,  the  Greek  or  Roman  writers,  who  knew  and  described 
them  from  their  first  appearance  in  history  up  to  this  epoch ; 
that  is  to  say,  from  Polybius,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  before  Christ,  down  to  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  whose 
work  stops  at  the  year  of  our  Lord  378.  Between  these  two 
eras  a  crowd  of  historians,  Livy,  Caesar,  Strabo,  Pomponiuss 
Mela,  Pliny,  Tacitus,  Ptolemy,  Plutarch,  Florus,  Pausanias, 
&c,  have  left  us  information,  more  or  less  detailed,  concern- 
ing the  German  nations ;  secondly,  writings  and  documents 
posterior  to  the  German  invasion,  but  which  relate  or  reveal 
anterior  facts ;  for  example,  many  chronicles,  the  barbaric 
laws,  Salic,  Visigoth,  Burgundian,  &c;  thirdly,  the  recollec- 
tion and  national  traditions  of  the  Germans  themselves  con- 
cerning their  fate  and  their  state  in  the  ages  anterior  to  the 
invasion,  reascending  up  to  the  first  origin  and  their  most  an- 
cient history. 

At  the  mere  mention  of  these  documents,  it  is  evident  thai 
rery  various  times  and  spates  are  comprehended  in  them.    The 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  147 

Roman  and  Greek  writers,  for  example,  embrace  a  space  ol 
five  hundred  years,  during  which  Germany  and  her  nations 
were  presented  to  them  in  the  most  different  points  of  view. 
Then  came  the  first  expeditions  of  the  wandering  Germans, 
especially  that  of  the  Teutones  and  the  Cimbrians.  Rather 
later,  dating  from  Caesar  and  Augustus,  the  Romans,  in  their 
turn,  penetrated  into  Germany ;  their  armies  passed  the 
Rhine  and  the  Danube,  and  saw  the  Germans  under  a  new 
aspect  and  in  a  new  state.  Lastly,  from  the  third  century, 
the  Germans  fell  upon  the  Roman  empire,  which  repelling  and 
admitting  them  alternately,  came  to  know  them  far  more  inti- 
mately, and  in  an  entirely  different  situation  from  what  they 
had  done  hitherto.  Who  does  not  perceive  that,  during  this 
interval,  through  so  many  centuries  and  events,  the  barba- 
rians and  the  writers  who  described  them,  the  object  and  the 
picture,  must  have  prodigiously  varied  ? 

The  documents  of  the  second  class  are  in  the  same  case  : 
the  barbaric  laws  were  drawn  up  some  time  after  the  invasion  ; 
the  most  ancient  portion  of  the  law  of  the  Visigoths  belonged 
to  the  last  half  of  the  fifth  century ;  the  Salic  law  may  have 
been  written  first  under  Clovis,  but  the  digest  which  we  have 
of  it  is  of  a  far  posterior  epoch ;  the  law  of  the  Burgundians 
dates  from  the  year  517. 

They  are  all,  therefore,  in  their  actual  form,  much  more 
modern  than  the  barbaric  society  which  we  wish  to  study. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  they  contain  many  facts,  that 
they  often  describe  a  social  state  anterior  to  the  invasion ; 
there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  Germans,  transported  into 
Gaul,  retained  much  of  their  ancient  customs,  their  ancient 
relations.  But  there  can  also  be  no  doubt  here  that,  after  the 
invasion,  Germanic  society  was  profoundly  modified,  and 
that  these  modifications  had  passed  into  laws  ;  the  law  of  the 
Visigoths  and  that  of  the  Burgundians  are  much  more  Roman 
t/ian  barbarian  ;  three  fourths  of  the  provisions  concern  facts 
which  could  not  have  arisen  until  after  these  nations  were  esta- 
blished upon  Roman  soil.  The  Salic  law  is  more  primitive, 
more  barbaric  j  but  still,  I  believe  it  may  be  proved  that,  in 
many  parts — among  others,  in  that  concerning  property — it 
is  of  more  recent  origin.  Like  the  Roman  historians,  the 
German  laws  evidence  very  various  times  and  states  of 
society. 

According  to  the  documents  of  the  third  class,  the  national 
traditions  of  the  Germans,  the  evidence  is  still  more  striking : 


148  HISTORY  OF 

the  subjects  of  these  traditions  are  almost  all  facts,  so  far  ante- 
rior  as  probably  to  have  become  almost  foreign  to  the  state  of 
these  nations  at  the  third  and  fourth  centuries ;  facts  which 
had  concurred  to  produce  this  state  and  which  may  serve  to 
explain  it,  but  which  no  longer  constituted  it.  Suppose,  that, 
in  order  to  study  the  state  of  the  highlanders  of  Scotland 
fifty  years  ago,  one  had  collected  their  still  living  and  popular 
traditions,  and  had  taken  the  facts  which  they  express  as 
the  real  elements  of  Scotch  society  in  the  eighteenth  century  : 
assuredly  the  illusion  would  be  great  and  fruitful  of  error.  It 
would  be  the  same  and  with  much  greater  reason,  with  regard 
to  the  ancient  German  traditions;  they  coincide  with  the 
primitive  history  of  the  Germans,  with  their  origin,  their 
religious  filiation,  their  relations  with  a  multitude  of  nations 
in  Asia,  on  the  borders  of  the  Black  sea,  of  the  Baltic  sea; 
with  events,  in  a  word,  which,  doubtless,  had  powerfully 
tended  to  bring  about  the  social  state  of  the  German  tribes 
in  the  third  century,  and  which  we  must  closely  observe,  but 
which  were  then  no  longer  facts  but  only  causes. 

You  see  that  all  the  monuments  that  remain  to  us  of 
the  state  of  the  barbarians  before  the  invasion,  whatever 
may  be  their  origin  and  their  nature,  Roman  or  German, 
traditions,  chronicles,  or  laws,  refer  to  times  and  facts  very 
far  removed  from  one  another,  and  among  which  it  is  very 
difficult  to  separate  what  truly  belongs  to  the  third  and 
fourth  centuries.  The  fundamental  error,  in  my  opinion,  of 
a  great  number  of  German  writers,  and  sometimes  of  the 
most  distinguished,  is  not  having  sufficiently  attended  to  this 
circumstance  :  in  order  to  picture  German  society  and  man- 
ners at  this  epoch,  they  have  drawn  their  materials  pell-mell 
from  the  three  sources  of  documents  I  have  indicated,  from 
the  Roman  writers,  from  the  barbaric  laws,  from  the  national 
traditions,  without  troubling  themselves  with  the  difference 
of  times  and  situations,  without  observing  any  moral 
chronology.  Hence  arises  the  incoherence  of  some  of  these 
pictures,  a  singular  mixture  of  mythology,  of  barbarism, 
and  of  rising  civilization,  of  fabulous,  heroic,  and  semi- 
political  ages,  without  exactitude  and  without  order  in  the 
eyes  of  the  more  severe  critic,  without  truth  for  the  imagi- 
nation. 

1  shall  endeavor  to  avoid  this  error ;  it  is  with  the  state 
of  the  Germans,  a  little  before  the  invasion,  that  I  desire  to 
occupy  you  ;  that  is  what  it  imports  us  to  know,  for  it  w  as  that 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  149 

which  was  real  and  powerful  at  the  time  cf  the  amalgama- 
tion of  the  nations,  that  which  exercised  a  true  influence 
upon  modern  civilization.  I  shall  in  no  way  enter  into 
the  examination  of  the  German  origins  and  antiquities ;  I 
shall  in  no  way  seek  to  discover  what  were  the  relations 
between  the  Germans  and  the  nations  and  religions  0/ 
Asia  ;  whether  their  barbarism  was  the  wreck  of  an  ancient 
civilization,  nor  what  might  be,  under  barbaric  forms,  the 
concealed  features  of  this  original  society.  The  question 
is  an  important  one ;  but  it  is  not  ours,  and  I  shall  not  stop 
at  it.  I  would  wish,  too,  never  to  transfer  into  the  state  01 
the  Germans,  beyond  the  Rhine  and  the  Danube,  facts  which 
belong  to  the  Germans  established  upon  Gaulish  soil.  The 
difficulty  is  extreme.  Before  having  passed  the  Danube  or 
the  Rhine,  the  barbarians  were  in  relation  with  Rome ;  their 
condition,  their  manners,  their  ideas,  their  laws,  had  perhaps 
already  submitted  to  its  influence.  How  separate,  amidst 
notices  so  incomplete,  so  confused,  these  first  results  of  foreign 
importation  1  How  decide  with  precision  what  was  truly 
Germanic,  and  what  already  bore  a  Roman  stamp  ?  I  shall 
attempt  this  task  ;  the  truth  of  history  absolutely  requires  it. 
The  most  important  document  we  possess  concerning  the 
state  of  the  Germans,  between  the  time  when  they  began  to 
be  known  in  the  Roman  world,  and  that  in  which  they  con. 
quered  it,  is  incontestably  the  work  of  Tacitus.  Two  tilings 
must  be  here  carefully  distinguished  :  on  one  side,  the  facts 
which  Tacitus  has  collected  and  described  ;  on  the  other,  the 
reflections  which  he  mixes  with  them,  the  color  under  which 
he  presents  them,  the  judgment  which  he  gives  of  them. 
The  facts  are  correct :  there  are  many  reasons  for  believing 
that  the  father  of  Tacitus,  and  perhaps  himself,  had  been  pro- 
curator  of  Belgium  ;  he  could  thus  collect  detailed  informa- 
tion concerning  Germany  ;  he  occupied  himself  carefully  in 
doing  so  ;  posterior  documents  almost  all  prove  the  material 
accuracy  of  his  descriptions.  With  regard  to  their  moral  hue, 
Tacitus  has  painted  the  Germans,  as  Montaigne  and  Rousseau 
the  savages,  in  a  fit  of  ill  humor  against  his  country  ;  his  book 
is  a  satire  on  Roman  manners,  the  eloquent  sally  of  a  philo- 
sophical patriot,  who  is  determined  to  see  virtue,  wherever  he 
does  not  happen  to  find  the  disgraceful  effeminacy  and  the 
learned  depravation  of  an  old  society.  Do  not  suppose,  how- 
ever, that  everything  is  false,  morally  speaking,  in  this  work 
of  anger — the  imagination  of  Tacitus  is  essentially  vigorous 


150  HISTORY    OF 

and  true  ;  when  he  wishes  simply  to  describe  German  man 
ners,  without  allusion  to  the  Roman  world,  without  compari. 
son,  without  deducing  any  general  consequence  therefrom,  he 
is  admirable,  and  one  may  give  entire  faith,  not  only  to  the 
design,  but  to  the  coloring  of  the  picture.  Never  has  the 
barbaric  life  been  painted  with  more  vigor,  more  poetical 
truth.  It  is  only  when  thoughts  of  Rome  occur  to  Tacitus, 
when  he  speaks  of  the  barbarians  with  a  view  to  shame  his 
fellow-citizens ;  it  is  then  only  that  his  imagination  loses  its 
independence,  its  natural  sincerity,  and  that  a  false  color  is 
spread  over  his  pictures. 

Doubtless,  a  great  change  was  brought  about  in  the  state 
of  the  Germans,  between  the  end  of  the  first  century,  the 
epoch  in  which  Tacitus  wrote,  and  the  times  bordering  on  the 
invasion  j  the  frequent  communications  with  Rome  could  not 
fail  of  exercising  a  great  influence  upon  them,  attention  to 
which  circumstance  has  too  often  been  neglected.  Still  the 
groundwork  of  the  book  of  Tacitus  was  true  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  as  in  the  first  century.  Nothing  can  be  a  more  decisive 
proof  of  it  than  the  accounts  of  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  a  mere 
soldier,  without  imagination,  without  instruction,  who  made 
war  against  the  Germans,  and  whose  brief  and  simple  descrip- 
tions coincide  almost  everywhere  with  the  lively  and  learned 
colors  of  Tacitus.  We  may,  therefore,  for  the  epoch  which 
occupies  us,  give  almost  entire  confidence  to  the  picture  of  the 
manners  of  the  Germans. 

If  we  compare  this  picture  with  the  description  of  the 
ancient  social  state  of  the  Germans,  lately  given  by  able 
German  writers,  we  shall  be  surprised  by  the  resemblance. 
Assuredly  the  sentiment  which  animates  them  is  different ;  it 
is  wita  indignation  and  sorrow  that  Tacitus,  at  corrupted 
Rome,  describes  the  simple  and  vigorous  manners  of  the 
barbarians ;  it  is  with  pride  and  complaisance  that  the  modern 
Germans  contemplate  it ;  but  from  these  diverse  causes  rises 
a  single  and  identical  fact ;  like  Tacitus,  nay,  far  more  than 
Tacitus,  the  greater  i>art  of  the  Germans  paint  ancient  Ger- 
many, her  institutions,  her  manners,  in  the  most  vivid  colors  ; 
if  they  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  represent  them  as  the  ideal  of 
society,  they  at  least  defend  them  from  all  imputation  of  bar- 
barism. According  to  them  :  1st.  the  agricultural  or  seden- 
tary life  prevailed  there,  even  before  the  invasion,  over  the 
wandering  life  ;  the  institutions  and  ideas  which  create  landed 
property  were  already  very  far  advanced ;  2d.  the  guaran. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  151 

tees  of  individual  liberty,  and  even  security,  were  efficacious ; 
3d.  manners  were  indeed  violent  and  coarse,  but  at  bottom 
the  natural  morality  of  man  was  developed  with  simplicity 
and  grandeur ;  family  affections  were  strong,  characters  lofty, 
emotions  profound,  religious  doctrines  high  and  powerful ; 
there  was  more  energy  and  moral  purity  than  is  found  under 
more  elegant  forms,  in  the  heart  of  a  far  more  extended  in- 
lellectual  development. 

When  this  cause  is  maintained  by  ordinary  minds,  it 
abounds  in  strange  assumptions  and  ridiculous  assertions. 
Heinrich,  the  author  of  an  esteemed  History  of  Germany, 
will  not  have  it  that  the  ancient  Germans  were  addicted 
to  intoxication  ;l  Meiners,  in  his  History  of  the  Female  Sex, 
maintains  that  women  have  never  been  so  happy  nor  so 
virtuous  as  in  Germany,  and  that  before  the  arrival  of  the 
Franks,  the  Gauls  knew  not  how  either  to  respect  or  to  love 
them.2 

I  shall  not  dwell  upon  these  puerilities  of  learned  patriot- 
ism ;  I  should  not  even  have  touched  upon  them,  if  they 
were  not  the  consequence,  and  as  it  were,  the  excrescence  of 
a  system,  maintained  by  very  distinguished  men,  and  which, 
in  my  opinion,  destroys  the  historical  and  poetical  idea  which 
is  formed  of  the  ancient  Germans.  Considering  things  at 
large,  and  according  to  mere  appearances,  the  error  seems  to 
me  evident. 

How  can  it  be  maintained,  for  example,  that  German 
society  was  well  nigh  fixed,  and  that  the  agricultural  life 
dominated  there,  in  the  presence  of  the  very  fact  of  migra- 
tions, of  invasions,  of  that  incessant  movement  which  drew 
the  Germanic  nations  beyond  their  territory  ?  How  can  we 
give  credit  to  the  empire  of  manorial  property,  and  of  the 
ideas  and  institutions  which  are  connected  with  it,  over  men 
who  continually  abandoned  the  soil  in  order  to  seek  fortune 
elsewhere  ?  And  mark,  that  it  was  not  only  on  the  frontiers 
that  this  movement  was  accomplished  ;  the  same  fluctuation 
reigned  in  the  interior  of  Germany  ;  tribes  incessantly  ex- 
pelled, displaced,  succeeded  one  another:  some  paragraphs 
from  Tacitus  will  abundantly  prove  this : 

"  The  Batavians,"  says  he,  "  were  formerly  a  tribe  of  tha 


*  Reiehsgeschichte,  vol   i.,  p.  69 

•  Oeschichte  des  Weiblichen  Geschlects,  vol.  1.,  p.  198 


152  HISTORY    OF 

Catti  ;  intestine  divisions  forced  them  to  retire  into  the 
islands  of  the  Rhine,  where  they  formed  an  alliance  with  the 
Romans."  (Tacitus,  de  Morib.  Germanorum,  xxix.) 

"  In  the  neighborhood  of  the  Tencteres  were  formerly  the 
Bructeres ;  it  is  said,  however,  that  now  the  Chamaves  and 
the  Angrivarians  possess  the  district,  having,  in  concert  with 
the  adjoining  tribes,  expelled  and  entirely  extirpated  the  an- 
cient inhabitants."  (ib.  xxxii.) 

"  The  Marcomannians  are  the  most  eminent  for  their 
strength  and  military  glory  ;  the  very  territory  they  occupy 
is  the  reward  of  their  valor,  they  having  dispossessed  its  former 
owners,  the  Boians."  (ib.  xlii.) 

"  Even  in  time  of  peace  the  Cattians  retain  the  same 
ferocious'  aspect,  never  softened  with  an  air  of  humanity. 
They  have  no  house  to  dwell  in,  no  land  to  cultivate,  no 
domestic  cares  to  employ  them.  Wherever  they  chance  to  be, 
they  live  upon  the  produce  they  find,  and  are  lavish  of  their 
neighbors'  substance,  till  old  age  incapacitates  them  for  these 
continuous  struggles."  (ib.  xxxi.) 

"  The  tribes  deem  it  an  honorable  distinction  to  have  their 
frontiers  devastated,  to  be  surrounded  with  immense  deserts. 
They  regard  it  as  the  highest  proof  of  valor  for  their  neighbors 
to  abandon  their  territories  out  of  fear  of  them  ;  moreover, 
they  have  thus  an  additional  security  against  sudden  attacks." 
(Caesar,  de  Bell.  Gall,  vi.  23.) 

Doubtless,  since  the  time  of  Tacitus,  the  German  tribes 
more  or  less,  had  made  some  progress ;  still,  assuredly,  the 
fluctuation,  the  continual  displacement  had  not  ceased,  since 
the  invasion  became  daily  more  general  and  more  pressing. 

Hence,  if  I  mistake  not,  partly  proceeds  the  difference 
which  exists  between  the  point  of  view  of  the  Germans  and 
our  own.  There  was,  in  fact,  at  the  fourth  century,  among 
many  German  tribes  or  confederations,  among  others  with 
the  Franks  and  Saxons,  a  commencement  of  the  sedentary, 
agricultural  life  ;  the  whole  nation  was  not  addicted  to  the 
wandering  life.  Its  composition  was  not  simple  ;  it  was  not 
an  unique  race,  a  single  social  condition.  We  may  there 
recognize  three  classes  of  men  :  1st.  freemen,  men  of  honor 
or  nobles,  proprietors  ;  2d.  the  lidi,  liti,  lasi,  &c,  or  laborers, 
men  attached  to  the  soil,  who  cultivated  it  for  masters  ;  3d. 
slaves  properly  so  called.  The  existence  of  the  first  two 
classes  evidently  indicates  a  conquest ;  the  class  of  freemen 
was  the  nation  of  conquerors,  who  had  obliged  the  ancient 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  153 

population  to  cultivate  the  soil  for  them.  This  was  an  ana- 
logous fact  to  that  which,  at  a  later  period,  in  the  Roman 
empire,  gave  rise  to  the  feudal  system.  This  fact  was  ac- 
complished at  various  epochs,  and  upon  various  points,  in  the 
interior  of  Germany.  Sometimes  the  proprietors  and  the  la- 
borers— the  conquerors  and  the  conquered — were  of  different 
races — sometimes  it  was  in  the  bosom  of  the  same  race,  be- 
tween different  tribes,  that  the  territorial  subjection  took  place ; 
we  see  Gaulish  or  Belgian  colonies  submit  to  German  colonies, 
Germans  to  Slavonians,  Slavonians  to  Germans,  Germans  to 
Germans.  Conquest  was  generally  effected  upon  a  small 
scale,  and  remained  exposed  to  many  vicissitudes ;  but  the 
fact  itself  cannot  be  disputed ;  many  passages  in  Tacitus 
positively  express  it : 

"  The  slaves,  in  general,  are  not  arranged  in  their  several 
employments  in  household  affairs,  as  is  the  practice  at  Rome. 
Each  has  his  separate  habitation  or  home.  The  master  con- 
siders him  as  an  agrarian  dependent,  who  is  obliged  to  furnish, 
by  way  of  rent,  a  certain  quantity  of  grain,  of  cattle,  or  of 
wearing  apparel.  The  slave  does  this,  and  there  his  servi- 
tude ends.  All  domestic  matters  are  managed  by  the  master's 
own  wife  and  children.  To  punish  a  slave  with  stripes,  to 
load  him  with  chains,  or  condemn  him  to  hard  labor,  is  un- 
usual." (lb.  xxv.) 

Who  does  not  recognize  in  this  description,  ancient  inha- 
bitants of  the  territory,  fallen  under  the  yoke  of  conquerors  ? 

The  conquerors,  in  the  earliest  ages  at  least,  did  not  culti- 
vate. They  enjoyed  the  conquest — sometimes  abandoned  to 
a  profound  idleness,  sometimes  excited  with  a  profound  pas- 
sion for  war,  hunting,  and  adventures.  Some  distant  expedi- 
tion tempted  them ;  all  were  not  of  the  same  inclination — 
they  did  not  all  go ;  a  party  set  off  under  the  conduct  of  some 
famous  chief;  others  remained,  preferring  to  guard  their  first 
conquests,  and  continued  to  live  upon  the  labor  of  the  ancient 
inhabitants.  The  adventurous  party  sometimes  returned 
laden  with  booty,  sometimes  pursued  its  course,  and  went  to 
a  distance  to  conquer  some  province  of  the  empire,  perhaps 
fou'id  some  kingdom.  It  was  thus  that  the  Vandals,  the  Suevi, 
the  Franks,  the  Saxons,  were  dispersed ;  thus  we  find  theso 
nations  over-running  Gaul,  Spain,  Africa,  Britain,  establishing 
themselves  there,  beginning  states,  while  the  same  names  are 
always  met  with  in  Germany — where,  in  fact,  the  same  peo- 
ple still  live  and  act.     They  were  parcelled  out :  one  part 


154  HISTORY    OF 

abandoned  themselves  to  the  wandering  life ;  another  was 
attached  to  the  sedentary  life,  perhaps  only  waiting  the  occa- 
sion or  temptation  to  set  out  in  its  turn. 

Hence  arises  the  difference  between  the  point  of  view  of 
the  German  writers,  and  that  of  our  own ;  they  more  espe- 
cially were  acquainted  with  that  portion  of  the  German  tribes 
which  remained  upon  the  soil,  and  was  more  and  more  ad- 
dicted to  the  agricultural  and  sedentary  life ;  we,  on  the  con- 
trary, have  been  naturally  led  to  consider  chiefly  the  portion 
which  followed  the  wandering  life,  and  which  invaded  western 
Europe.  Like  the  learned  Germans,  we  speak  of  the  Franks, 
the  Saxons,  the  Suevi,  but  not  of  the  same  Suevi,  the  same 
Saxons,  the  same  Franks ;  our  researches,  our  words,  almost 
always  refer  to  those  who  passed  the  Rhine,  and  it  is  in  the 
state  of  wandering  bands  that  we  have  seen  them  appear  in 
Gaul,  in  Spain,  in  Britain,  &c.  The  assertions  of  the  Ger- 
mans chiefly  allude  to  the  Saxons,  the  Suevi,  the  Franks  who 
remained  in  Germany ;  and  it  is  in  the  state  of  conquering 
nations,  it  is  true,  but  fixed,  or  almost  fixed  in  certain  parts 
of  the  land,  and  beginning  to  lead  the  life  of  proprietors,  that 
they  are  exhibited  by  almost  all  the  ancient  monuments  of 
local  history.  The  error  of  these  scholars,  if  I  mistake  not,  is 
in  carrying  the  authority  of  these  monuments  too  far  back — 
too  anterior  to  the  fourth  century ,— of  attributing  too  remote 
a  date  to  the  sedentary  life,  and  to  the  fixedness  of  the  social 
state  in  Germany;  but  the  error  is  much  more  natural  and 
less  important  than  it  would  be  on  our  part. 

With  regard  to  ancient  German  institutions,  I  shall  speak 
of  them  in  detail  when  we  treat  especially  of  the  barbarian 
laws,  and  more  especially  of  the  Salic  law.  I  shall  confine 
myself  at  present  to  the  characterizing,  in  a  few  words,  their 
state  at  the  epoch  which  occupies  us. 

At  that  time,  we  find  among  the  Germans  the  seeds  of  the 
three  great  systems  of  institutions  which,  after  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire,  contested  for  Europe.  We  find  there :  1st, 
assemblies  of  freemen,  where  they  debate  upon  the  common 
interests,  public  enterprises,  all  the  important  affairs  of  the 
nation ;  2dly,  kings,  some  by  hereditary  title,  and  sometimes 
invested  with  a  religious  character,  others  by  title  of  election, 
and  especially  bearing  a  warlike  character ;  3dly,  the  aris. 
tocratical  patronage,  whether  of  the  warlike  chief  over  his 
companions,  or  of  the  proprietor  over  his  family  and  laborers. 
These  three  systems,  these  three  modes  of  social  organization 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCS.  155 

and  of  government  may  be  seen  in  almost  all  the  German 
tribes  before  the  invasion;  but  none  of  them  are  real,  effica- 
cious. Properly  speaking,  there  are  no  free  institutions,  mo- 
narchies, or  aristocracies,  but  merely  the  principle  to  which 
they  relate,  the  germ  from  whence  they  may  arise.  Every- 
thing is  abandoned  to  the  caprice  of  individual  wills.  When- 
ever the  assembly  of  the  nation,  or  the  king,  or  the  lord, 
wished  to  be  obeyed,  the  individual  must  either  consent,  or 
disorderly  brute  force  obliged  him.  This  is  the  free  develop- 
ment and  the  contest  between  individual  existences  and  liber- 
ties ;  there  was  no  public  power,  no  government,  no  staie. 

With  regard  to  the  moral  condition  of  the  Germans  at  this 
epoch,  it  is  very  difficult  to  estimate  it.  It  has  been  made  the 
text  of  infinite  declamation  in  honor  of  or  against  civilization 
or  savage  life,  of  primitive  independence  or  of  developed  so- 
ciety, of  natural  simplicity  or  of  scientific  enlightenment ;  but 
we  are  without  documents  enabling  us  to  estimate  the  true 
nature  of  these  generalities.  There  exists,  however,  one 
great  collection  of  facts,  posterior,  it  is  true,  to  the  epoch  of 
which  we  are  speaking,  but  which  yet  presents  a  sufficiently 
faithful  image  of  it ;  this  is  the  Histoire  des  Francs,  by  Gre- 
gory of  Tours,  unquestionably,  of  all  others,  the  work  which 
furnishes  us  with  the  most  information,  which  throws  the 
clearest  light  upon  the  moral  state  of  the  barbarians ;  not  that 
the  chronicler  made  it  any  part  of  his  plan,  but,  in  the  ordi- 
nary course  of  his  narrative,  he  relates  an  infinite  number  of 
private  anecdotes,  of  incidents  of  domestic  life,  in  which  the 
manners,  the  social  arrangements,  the  moral  state,  in  a  word, 
the  man  of  his  period,  are  exhibited  to  us  more  clearly  than 
in  any  other  work  we  possess. 

It  is  here  that  we  may  contemplate  and  understand  this 
singular  mixture  of  violence  and  deceit,  of  improvidence  and 
calculation,  of  patience  and  bursts  of  passion  ;  this  egoism  of 
interest  and  of  passion,  mixed  with  the  indestructible  empire 
of  certain  ideas  of  duty,  of  certain  disinterested  sentiments : 
in  a  word,  that  chaos  of  our  moral  nature  which  constitutes 
barbarism  ;  a  state  of  things  very  difficult  to  describe  with  pre- 
cision, for  it  has  no  general  and  fixed  feature,  no  one  decided 
principle ;  there  is  no  proposition  we  can  make  it,  which  we 
are  not  compelled  the  next  instant  to  modify,  or  altogether  to 
throw  aside.  It  is  humanity,  strong  and  active,  but  abandoned 
to  the  impulse  of  its  reckless  propensities,  to  the  incessant  mo- 
bility of  its  wayward  fancies,  to  the  gross  imperfection  of  its 


156  HISTORY    OF 

knowledge,  to  the  incoherence  of  its  ideas,  to  the  infinite  va 
riety  of  the  situations  and  accidents  of  its  life. 

It  were  impossible  to  penetrate  far  enough  into  such  a  sta'  .< 
and  reproduce  its  image,  by  the  mere  aid  of  a  few  dry  and 
mutilated  chronicles,  of  a  few  fragments  of  old  poems,  of  a  few 
unconnected  paragraphs  of  old  laws. 

I  know  but  of  one  way  of  attaining  anything  like  a  coirect 
idea  of  the  social  and  moral  state  of  the  German  tribes — it  is 
to  compare  them  with  the  tribes  who,  in  modern  times,  in 
various  parts  of  the  globe,  in  North  America,  in  the  interior 
of  Africa,  in  the  north  of  Asia,  are  still  almost  in  the  same 
degree  of  civilization,  and  lead  very  nearly  the  same  life. 
The  latter  have  been  observed  more  nearly,  and  described  in 
greater  detail ;  fresh  accounts  of  them  reach  us  every  day. 
We  have  a  thousand  facilities  for  regulating  and  completing 
our  ideas  with  respect  to  them ;  our  imagination  is  constantly 
excited,  and  at  the  same  time  rectified,  by  the  narratives  of 
travellers.  By  closely  and  critically  observing  these  narra- 
tives, by  comparing  and  analyzing  the  various  circumstances, 
they  become  for  us  as  it  were  a  mirror,  in  which  we  raise  up 
and  reproduce  the  image  of  the  ancient  Germans.  I  have  gone 
through  this  task  j  I  have  followed,  step  by  step,  the  work  of 
Tacitus,  seeking  throughout  my  progress,  in  voyages  and 
travels,  in  histories,  in  national  poetry,  in  all  the  documents 
which  we  possess  concerning  the  barbarous  tribes  in  the  va- 
rious parts  of  the  world,  facts  analogous  to  those  described  by 
the  Roman  writer.  I  will  lay  before  you  the  principal  fea 
tures  of  this  comparison,  and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  re^ 
semblance  between  the  manners  of  the  Germans  and  those  of 
the  more  modern  barbarians — a  resemblance  which  sometimes 
extends  into  details  where  one  would  have  had  not  the  slightesl 
idea  of  finding  it. 

1.  1. 

"  To  retreat,  if  you  afterwards        "  Our   warriors    do    not    pique 
return  to  the  charge,  is  considered    themselves  upon  attacking  the  ene- 

Srudent  skill,  not  cowardice." —    my  in  front,  and  while  he  is  on  his 
le  Moribus  Germanorum,  vi.  guard ;  for  this  they  must  be  ten  to 

one."     Choix  de  Litt.  edif.  Mis 
sions  d'Amerique,  vii.  49. 

"  Savages  do  not  pride  them- 
selves upon  attacking  the  enemy 
in  front  and  by  open  force.  If,  de- 
spite all  their  precautions  and  their 
address,  their  movements  are  dis- 
covered, they  think  the  wisest  plan 
is  to  retire." — Robertson's  Hist  of 
America,  ii. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


157 


2. 

"  Their  wives  and  mothers  ac- 
company them  to  the  field  of  bat- 
tle ;  and  when  their  relatives  are 
wounded,  count  each  honorable 
glsh,  and  suck  the  blood.  They 
are  even  daring  enough  to  mix 
with  the  combatants,  taking  re- 
freshments to  them  and  reanimat- 
ing their  courage." — lb.  vii. 

"  They  have  accounts  of  armies 
put  to  the  rout,  who  have  been 
brought  to  the  charge  by  the  wo- 
men and  old  men  preventing  their 
flight." — lb.  viii. 


*'  There  is  in  their  opinion  some- 
thing sacred  in  the  female  sex,  and 
even  the  power  of  foreseeing  future 
events;  the  advice  of  the  women, 
therefore,  is  frequently  so  ight,  and 
their  counsels  respected.'  — lb. 


"Their  attention  to  auguries, 
and  the  practice  of  divination,  is 
conducted  with  a  degree  of  super- 
stition not  exceeded  by  any  other 
nation.  .  .  .  The  braich  of  a  fruit 
tree  is  cut  into  small  pieces,  which 
being  all  distinctly  marked,  are 
thrown  at  random  on  a  white  cloth. 
If  a  question  of  public  interest  be 
depending,  the  nigh  priest  per- 
forms the  ceremony ;  if  it  be  only  a 
private  matter,  the  master  of  the 


The  heroes  of  Homer  fly  when- 
ever, finding  themselves  the  weak- 
er party,  they  have  the  opportu- 
nity. 

2. 

"  The  Tungusian  women  in  Si- 
beria go  to  war  as  well  as  their 
husbands ;  and  they  have  as  rough 
treatment" — Meiners'  Hist  of  tht 
Female  Sex,  i.  18,  19. 

"At  the  battle  of  Yermuk,  in 
Syria,  in  636,  the  last  line  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  sister  of  Dezar,  with 
the  Arabian  women,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  wield  the  bow  and  the 
lance.  Thrice  did  the  Arabs  re- 
treat in  disorder,  and  thrice  were 
they  driven  back  to  the  charge  by 
the  reproaches  and  blows  of  the 
women." — Gibbon's  Hist,  of  the 
Dec.  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. 

3. 

"  When  a  national  war  breaks 
out,  the  priests  and  diviners  are 
consulted;  sometimes,  even,  they 
take  the  advice  of  the  women." — 
Rob.  Hist,  of  America,  ii. 

"  The  Hurons,  in  particular,  pay 
particular  respect  to  women."— 
Charlevoix,  Hist,  of  Canada. 

"  The  Gauls  consulted  the  wo- 
men in  important  affairs;  they 
agreed  with  Hannibal  that  if  the 
Carthaginians  had  to  complain  of 
the  Gauls,  they  should  carry  their 
complaint  before  the  Gaulish  wo- 
men, who  should  be  the  judges  of 
them." — Mem.  de  PAcadem.  des 
Inscrip.  xxiv.  374,  Memoire  de 
l'Abbe  Fenel. 

4. 

"  This  mode  of  divination,  by 
rod,  has  some  relation  with  divina- 
tion by  arrow,  which  was  in  usa^e 
throughout  the  East.  When  Turk- 
mans were  established  in  Persia, 
after  the  defeat  of  the  Ghaznevides 
(A.  d.  103S),  they  chose  a  king  by 
writing  upon  arrows  the  names  of 
the  different  tribes,  of  the  different 
families  of  the  tribes,  taken  by  lot, 
and  of  the  different  members  of  tha 
family." — Gibbon,  Hist,  of  the  Do 


158 


HISTORY    OF 


family  officiates.  Having  invoked 
the  gods,  with  his  eyes  devoutly 
raised  to  heaven,  he  holds  up  three 
times  each  segment  of  the  twig,  and 
as  the  marks  rise  in  succession,  in- 
terprets the  decrees  of  fate. 

"  The  practice  of  consulting  the 
notes  and  flight  of  birds  is  also  in 
use  among  them." — lb.  x. 
5. 

"  The  kings  in  Germany  owe 
their  election  to  the  nobility  of 
their  births ;  the  generals  are  cho- 
sen for  their  valor.  The  power  of 
the  former  is  not  arbitrary  or  un- 
limited ;  the  latter  command  more 
by  warlike  example  than  by  their 
mere  orders ;  to  be  of  a  prompt  and 
daring  spirit  in  battle,  to  appear  in 
the  front  of  the  lines,  insures  the 
obedience  of  the  soldiers,  admirers 
of  valor.  The  whole  nation  takes 
cognizance  of  important  affairs. 
The  princes  and  chiefs  gain  atten- 
tion rather  by  the  force  of  their  ar- 
guments than  by  any  authority.  If 
their  opinion  is  unsatisfactory  to 
the  warriors,  the  assembly  reject  it 
by  a  general  murmur.  If  the  pro- 
position pleases,  they  brandish 
their  javelins." — lb.  vii.  11. 
6. 

M  In  that  consists  his  dignity ;  to 
be  surrounded  by  a  band  of  young 
men  is  the  source  of  his  power;  in 
peace,  his  highest  ornament — in 
war,  his  strongest  bulwark.  Nor  is 
his  fame  confined  to  his  own  coun- 
try ;  it  extends  to  foreign  nations, 
and  he  is  then  of  the  first  import- 
ance, if  he  surpasses  his  rivals  in 
the  number  and  courage  of  his  fol- 
lowers. If,  in  the  course  of  a  long 
peace,  a  tribe  languishes  under  in- 
dolence, the  young  men  often  seek 
in  a  body  a  more  active  life  with 
another  tribe  that  is  engaged  in 
war.  The  new  chief  must  show  his 
liberality ;  he  must  give  to  one  a 
horse,  to  another  a  shield,  to  an- 
other a  blood-stained  and  victori- 
ous spear ;  to  all  plentiful  food  and 
potations.  These  are  their  only 
pay." — lb.  xiii. 


cline  and  Fall  of  the  Romu>  En> 
pire,  xi.  224. 

"  Presages  drawn  from  the  song 
and  flight  of  birds  were  known 
among  the  Romans,  among  th« 
Greeks,  among  the  greater  part  of 
the  savages  of  America,  Natchez, 
Moxes,  Chequites,  &c." — Lett 
edif.  vii.  255,  viii.  141,  264. 
5. 

"  Savages  know  among  them- 
selves neither  princes  nor  kings. 
They  say  in  Europe  that  they  have 
republics ;  but  these  republics  have 
no  approach  to  stable  laws.  Each 
family  looks  upon  itself  as  abso- 
lutely free;  each  Indian  believes 
himself  independent.  Still  they 
have  learned  the  necessity  of  form- 
ing among  them  a  kind  of  society, 
and  of  choosing  a  chief,  whom  they 
call  cacique,  that  is  to  say,  com- 
mander. In  order  to  be  raised  to 
this  dignity,  it  is  necessary  to  have 
given  striking  proofs  of  valor." — 
Lett.  edif.  viii.  133. 


6. 

"  The  most  powerful  order 
among  the  Iroquois  is  that  of  war- 
like chiefs.  It  is  first  necessary 
that  they  should  be  successful,  and 
that  they  should  by  no  means  lose 
sight  of  those  who  follow  them ; 
that  they  should  deprive  them- 
selves of  whatever  is  dear  to  them- 
selves in  favor  of  their  soldiers." — 
Mem.  sur  les  Iroquois,  in  the  Va- 
rietes  Litteraires,  i.  543. 

**  The  influence  of  the  warlike 
chiefs  over  the  young  men  is  more 
or  less  great,  according  as  they  give 
more  or  less,  as  they  more  or  less 
keep  open  table." — Journal  des 
Campagnes  de  M.  de  Bougainville 
in  Canada,  in  the  Varietes  Litte- 
raires, i.  4S8. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FKANCE. 


159 


7. 
**  When  the  State  has  no  war  on 
its  hands,  the  men  pass  their  time 
partly  in  the  chase,  partly  in  sloth 
and  gluttony.  The  intrepid  war- 
rior, who  in  the  field  braved  every 
danger,  becomes  in  time  of  peace 
a  listless  sluggard.  The  manage- 
ment of  his  house  and  lands  he 
leaves  to  the  women,  to  the  old 
men,  and  to  the  other  weaker  por- 
tions of  his  family." — lb.  xv. 


"  The  Germans,  it  is  well 
known,  have  no  regular  cities,  nor 
do  they  even  like  their  houses  to 
be  near  each  other.  They  dwell 
in  separate  habitations,  dispersed 
up  and  down,  as  a  grove,  a  spring, 
or  a  meadow  happens  to  invite. 
They  have  villages,  but  not  in  our 
fashion,  with  connected  buildings. 
Every  tenement  stands  detached." 
—lb.  xvi. 

9. 

"  They  are  almost  the  only  bar- 
barians who  content  themselves 
with  one  wife.  There  are,  indeed, 
some  cases  of  polygamy  among 
them,  not,  however,  the  effect  of 
licentio  jsness,  but  by  reason  of  the 
rank  of  tae  parties."— lb.  xviii. 


10. 
"  It  is  not  the  wife  who  brings 
a  dowry  to  her  husband,  but  the 
husband  who  gives  one  to  his 
bride ;  not  presents  adapted  for  fe- 
male vanity,  but  oxen,  a  capari- 
soned horse,  a  shield  and  spear 
and  sword." — lb.1 


"  With  the  exception  of  some 
trifling  huntings,  the  Illinois  lead 
a  perfectly  indolent  life  They 
pass  their  time  in  smoking  an< 
talking,  and  that  is  all.  They  re- 
main tranquil  upon  their  mats,  and 
pass  their  time  in  sleeping  or  mak- 
ing bows.  As  to  the  women,  they 
labor  from  morning  till  night  like 
slaves."— Lett.  edif.  vii.  32,  867. 
See  also  Robertson's  History  of 
America,  ii. 

8. 

"  The  villages  of  the  American 
savages  and  of  the  mountaineers  of 
Corsica,  are  built  in  the  same  way ; 
they  are  formed  of  houses  scattered 
and  distant  from  one  another,  so 
that  a  village  of  fifty  houses  some- 
times occupies  a  quarter  of  a  league 
square." — Volney,  Tableau  des 
Etats  Unis  d'Ainerique,  484 — 186 


9. 

"  Among  the  savages  of  North 
America,  in  districts  where  the 
means  of  subsistence  were  rar*. 
and  the  difficulties  of  raising  a  fa- 
mily very  great,  the  man  confined 
himself  to  a  single  wife." — Robert- 
son's History  of  America. 

"  Although  the  Moxes  (in  Peru) 
allow  polygamy,  it  is  rare  for  them 
to  have  more  than  one  wife ;  their 
poverty  will  not  allow  of  their 
having  more." — Lett.  edif.  viii.  71. 

"  Among  the  Guaranis  (in  Para- 
guay) polygamy  is  not  permitted 
to  the  people  ;  but  the  caciques 
may  have  two  or  three  wives."— 
lb.  261. 

10. 

This  takes  place  wherever  the 
husband  buys  his  wife,  and  where 
the  wife  becomes  the  property,  the 
slave  of  her  husband.  "  Among 
the  Indians  of  Guiana«the  women 
have  no  dowry  on  marrying.  An 
Indian,  who  wishes  to  marry  an 


1  There  Is  no  doubt  that  the  Germans  bought  their  wives:  a  law  of 


160 


HISTORY    OF 


11 
f*  Populous  as  the  country  is, 
adultery  is  rarely  heard  of;  when 
detected,  the  punishment  is  imme- 
diate, and  inflicted  by  the  husband. 
He  cuts  off  the  hair  of  his  guilty 
wife,  and  having  assembled  her 
relations,  expels  her  naked  from 
his  house,  pursuing  her  with 
stripes  through  the  village." — lb. 


12. 

"  It  is  generally  late  before  their 

young  men  enjoy  the  pleasures  of 

love,   and   consequently  they  are 

not  exhausted  in  their  youth.  Nor 


Indian  woman,  must  make  consi. 
derable  presents  to  the  father  ; — a 
canoe,  bows  and  arrows,  are  not 
sufficient ;  he  must  labor  a  year  for 
his  future  father-in-law,  cook  for 
him,  hunt  for  him,  fish  for  him, 
&c.  Women  among  the  Guanis 
are  true  property." — MS.  Journal 
of  a  Residence  in  Guiana,  by  M.  de 
M. 

"  It  is  the  same  among  the  Nat- 
chez, in  many  Tartar  tribes  in 
Mingrelia,  in  Pegu,  among  many 
Negro  tribes  in  Africa." — Lett, 
edif.  vii.  221 ;  Lord  Kaimes's 
Sketches  of  the  History  of  Man.  i. 
184—186. 

11. 

"  It  is  pretended  that  adultery 
was  unknown  among  the  Caribbees 
of  the  islands,  before  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Europeans." — Lord 
Kaimes,  i.  207. 

"  Adultery  among  the  savages 
of  North  America  is  generally 
punished  without  form  or  process, 
by  the  husband,  who  sometimes 
severely  beats  his  wife,  sometimes 
bites  off  her  nose." — Lang's  Tra- 
vels among  the  different  savage 
nations  of  North  America,  177. 
See  also  the  History  of  the  Ameri- 
can Indians  by  James  Adair  (1775), 
144 ;  Varietes  Litteraires,  i.  458 
12. 

The  coldness  of  wandering  sav- 
ages, in  matters  of  love,  has  oftep 
been  remarked  :  Bruce  was  struck 
with    it    among   the    Gallas    ana 


the  Burgundians  declares — "  If  any  one  dismiss  his  wife  without  a 
good  reason,  he  must  give  her  a  sum  equal  to  what  he  paid  for  her." — 
Tit.  xxxiv.  Theodoric,  king  of  the  Ostrogoths,  in  giving  his  niece  in 
marriage  to  Hermanfried,  king  of  the  Thuringians,  writes  to  him,  by 
the  hand  of  Cassiodorus :  "  We  inform  you  that  on  the  arrival  of  your 
envoys,  they  punctually  delivered  to  us  the  horses  harnessed  with  the 
silver  trappings,  befitting  royal  marriage  horses,  the  price  you,  after 
(he  custom  of  the  Gentiles,  gave  us  for  our  niece." — Cassiodorus,  Va- 
or.,  iv.  1. 

Jjown  to  a  very  recent  period,  the  betrothing  in  Lower  Saxony  was 
•-ailed  brudkop,  that  is  to  say  brautkauf  [vide  purchase]. — Adelung. 
History  of  the  Ancient  Germans,  301. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE. 


:oi 


are  the  virgins  married  too  soon." 
lb  xv. 


13. 
Tbi*  uncle  on  the  mother's  side 
regards  his  nephews  with  an  affec- 
tion nothing  inferior  to  that  of  their 
father.  With  some,  this  relation- 
ship is  held  to  be  the  strongest  tie 
of  consanguinity,  insomuch  that  in 
demanding  hostages,  maternal  ne- 
phews are  preferred,  as  the  most 
endearing  objects,  and  the  safest 
pledges. — lb. 


14. 


"  To  adopt  the  quarrels  as  well 
as  the  friendships  of  their  parents 
and  relations,  is  held  to  be  an  in- 
dispensable duty." — lb.  xxi. 


Shangallas,  on  the  frriitiers  of 
Abyssinia :  Levaillant,  among  the 
Hottentots.  "  The  Iroquois  know 
and  say  that  the  use  of  women 
enervates  their  courage  and  their 
strength,  and  that,  wishing  to  be 
warlike,  they  should  abstain  from 
using  them,  or  use  them  with  mo- 
deration."— Mem.  stir  les  Iroquois, 
in  the  Varietes  Litteraires,  -i.  455  ; 
see  also  Volney,  Tabl.  des  Etats- 
Unis,  443 ;  Malthus's  Essays  upon 
the  principle  of  Population,  i.  50 ; 
Robertson's  History  of  America, 
il  237. 

Among  the  Greenlanders,  the 
girls  marry  at  twenty ;  it  is  the 
same  among  most  of  the  northern 
savages. — Meiner's  History  of  the 
Female  Sex,  i.  29. 
13. 

Among  the  Natchez  "  it  is  not 
the  son  of  the  reigning  chief  who 
succeeds  to  his  father ;  it  is  the  son 
of  his  sister.  .  .  .  This  policy  is 
founded  on  the  knowledge  of  the 
licentiousness  of  their  wives  ;  they 
are  sure,  say  they,  that  the  son  of 
the  sister  of  the  great  chief  is  of 
the  blood  royal,  at  least  on  his  mo- 
ther's side."— Lett.  edif.  vii.  217. 

Among  the  Iroquois  and  the  Hu- 
rons,  the  dignity  of  a  chief  always 
passes  to  the  children  of  his  aunts, 
of  his  sisters,  or  of  his  nieces  on 
the  maternal  side. — Moeurs  des 
Sauvages,  by  father  Lafitau,  i.  73, 
471. 

14. 

"  Every  one  knows  that  this  fea- 
ture is  found  among  all  nations  in 
the  infancy  of  civilization,  where 
as  yet  there  was  no  public  power 
to  protect  or  punish.  I  shall  cite 
but  one  example  of  this  obstinacy 
of  savages  in  taking  vengeance  ;  it 
appears  to  me  striking  and  very 
analogous  to  what  is  recounted  of 
the  Germans  by  Gregory  of  Tours 
and  other  characters. 

"  An  Indian,  of  a  tribe  establish- 
ed on  the  Maroni,  a  violent  and 
blood-thirsty  man,  had  assassinated 
one  of  his  neighbors  of  the  same 


102 


HISTORY    OF 


15. 
M  Hospitality  is  nowhere  more 
liberally  observed      To  turn  any 
man  from  their  door  was  regarded 
as  a  crime." — lb. 


10. 
"  A  German  delights  in  the  gifts 
which  he  receives  ;  yet  in  bestow- 
ing, he  imputes  nothing  to  you  as  a 
favor,  and  for  what  he  receives,  he 
acknowledges  no  obligation." — lb. 


17. 

"  To  devote  both  day  and  night 
to  deep  drinking,  is  a  disgrace  to 
no  man  " — lb.  xxii. 


village  ;  to  escape  the  resentmen 
of  the  family  of  his  enemy,  he  fled 
and  established  himself  at  Simapo, 
at  a  distance  of  four  leagues  from 
our  desert ;  a  brother  of  ihe  de- 
ceased did  not  delay  following  the 
murderer.  On  his  arrival  at  Sima- 
po, the  captain  asked  him  what  he 
came  there  to  do.  •  I  came,'  said 
he,  « to  kill  Averani,  who  has  kill- 
ed my  brother.'  « I  cannot  prevent 
you,'  said  the  captain  to  him.  But 
Averani  was  warned  during  the 
night,  and  fled  with  his  children. 
His  enemy,  informed  of  his  depar- 
ture, and  that  he  had  repaired  by 
the  interior  towards  the  river 
Aprouague,  resolved  to  follow  him. 
•  I  will  kill  him,'  said  he,  '  though 
he  flee  to  the  Portuguese.'  He  im- 
mediately set  out.  We  know  not 
whether  he  attained  his  end." — 
Journal  Manuscrit  d'un  sejour  a 
la  Guyanne  par  M.  de  M. 
15. 

"  The  hospitality  of  all  savage 
nations  is  proverbial." — See  in  the 
Histoire  de  l'Academie  des  In- 
scriptions, iii.  41,  the  extract  from 
a  memoir  of  M.  Simon,  and  a  num- 
ber of  accounts  of  travellers. 
16. 

"  It  is  the  same  with  the  Ame- 
rican savages;  they  give  and  re- 
ceive with  great  pleasure,  but  they 
do  not  think  of,  nor  will  they  ac- 
cept, any  acknowledgment.  '  If 
you  have  given  me  this,'  say  the 
Galibis, '  it  is  because  you  have  no 
need  of  it.'  " — Aublet,  Histoire  des 
Plantes  de  la  Guyanne  Franchise, 
ii.  lu. 

17. 

"  The  inclination  of  savage  na- 
tions for  wine  and  strong  liquors 
is  universally  known  ;  the  Indians 
of  Guiana  take  long  journeys  to 
procure  it ;  one  of  them,  of  the 
colony  of  Simapo,  replied  to  M.  de 

M ,  who  asked  him  where  they 

were  going :  to  drink,  as  our  pea- 
santry say :  to  the  harvest,  to  the 
fair." — Manuscript  Diary  of  a  Re- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE 


163 


sidence 
M . 


in   Guiana,    by     M.   de 


18. 
"  They  have  but  one  sort  of 
public  spectacle  ;  the  young  men 
dance  naked  amidst  swords  and 
javelins  pointed  at  their  breasts." 
— lb.  xxiv. 

19. 
"  They  yield  to  gambling  with 
such  ardor,  that  when  they  have 
lost  everything,  they  place  their 
own  liberty  on  the  hazard  of  the 
die."-Ib. 

20. 
*•  It  was  not  in  order  to  succeed  in 
love,  or  to  please,  that  they  decked 
themselves,  but  in  order  to  give 
themselves  a  gigantic  and  terrible 
appearance,  as  they  might  have 
decked  themselves  to  go  before 
their  enemies."— lb.  c.  38. 

21. 
From  the  age  of  early  manhood 
they  allow  their  hair  and  beard 
to  grow,  until  they  have  killed  an 
enemy.— lb.  c  31. 


18. 

"  Love  does  not  enter  the  least 
into  the  dances  of  the  North  Ame- 
rican savages ;  they  are  only  war- 
like dances." — Robertson's  History 
of  America,  ii.  459-461. 
19. 

"  The  Americans  play  for  their 
furs,  their  domestic  utensils,  their 
clothes,  their  arms,  and  when  all 
is  lost,  we  often  see  them  risk,  at 
a  single  blow,  their  liberty." 
20. 

"  When  the  Iroquois  choose  to 
paint  their  faces  it  is  to  give  them- 
selves a  terrible  air,  with  which 
they  hope  to  intimidate  their  ene- 
mies ;  it  is  also  for  this  reason  that 
they  paint  themselves  black  when 
they  go  to  war." — Varietes  Litte- 
raires,  i.  472. 

21. 

After  the  Indians  are  twenty 
years  old,  they  allow  their  hair  to 
grow. — Lett.  edif.  viii.  261. 

The  custom  of  scalping,  or  tak- 
ing off  the  hair  of  their  enemies, 
so  common  among  the  Americans, 
was  also  practised  among  the  Ger- 
mans :  this  is  the  decalvare  men- 
tioned in  the  laws  of  the  Visi- 
goths ;  the  capillos  et  cutem  de- 
trahere,  still  in  use  among  the 
Franks  towards  the  year  879,  ac- 
cording to  the  annals  of  Fulda 
the  hettinan  of  the  Anglo  Saxons, 
&c. — Adelung,  Ancient  History  of 
the  Germans,  303. 


Here  are  numerous  citations  ;  I  might  extend  them  much 
more,  and  might  almost  always  place,  side  by  side  with  the 
most  trifling  assertion  of  Tacitus  concerning  the  Germans,  an 
analogous  assertion  of  some  modern  traveller  or  historian, 
concerning  some  one  of  the  barbarous  tribes  at  present  dis- 
persed  over  the  face  of  the  globe. 

You  see  what  is  the  social  condition  which  corresponds  to 
that  of  ancient  Germany  :  what,  then,  must  we  think  of  those 
magnificent  descriptions  which  have  so  often  been  drawn  ? 
Precisely  that  which  we  should  think  of  Cooper's  romances, 


164  HISTORY    OF 

as  pictures  of  the  condition  and  manners  of  the  savages  ol 
North  America.    There  is,  without  doubt,  in  these  romances, 
and  in  some  of  the  works  in  which  the  Germans  have  at- 
tempted to  depict  their  wild  ancestors,  a  sufficiently  vivid  and 
true  perception  of  certain  parts  and  certain  periods  of  barba- 
rous society  and  life — of  its  independence,  for  instance ;  of  the 
activity  and   indolence  which   it  combines ;    of  the  skilful 
energy  which  man  therein  displays  against  the  obstacles  and 
perils  wherewith  material  nature  besieges  him  ;  of  the  mono- 
tonous violence  of  his  passions,  &c.  &c.     But  the  picture  is 
very  incomplete — so  incomplete  that  the  truth  of  even  wha 
it  represents  is  often  much  changed  by  it.     That  Cooper,  in 
writing  of  the  Mohicans  or  the  Delawares,  and  that  the  Ger- 
man writers,  in  describing  the  ancient  Germans,  should  allow 
themselves  to  represent  all  things  under  their  poetic  aspect — 
that,  in  their  descriptions,  the  sentiments  and  circumstances 
of  barbarous  life  should  become  exalted  to  their  ideal  form — 
is  very  natural,  and  I  willingly  admit,  is  very  legitimate  :  the 
ideal  is  the  essence  of  poetry — history  itself  is  partial  to  it ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  the  only  form  under  which  times  gone  by 
can  be  duly  represented.     But  the  idea  must  also  be  true, 
complete,  and  harmonious ;  it  does  not  consist  in  the  arbitrary 
and  fanciful  suppression  of  a  large  portion  of  the  reality  to 
which  it  corresponds.     Assuredly  the  songs  which  bear  the 
name  of  Homer,  form  an  ideal  picture  of  Greek  society ; 
nevertheless  that  society  is  therein  reproduced  in  a  complete 
state,  with  the  rusticity  and  ferocity  of  its  manners,  the  coarse 
simplicity  of  its  sentiments,  and  its  good  and  bad  passions, 
without   any  design  of  particularly  drawing  forth  or  cele- 
brating such  or  such  of  its  merits  and  its  advantages,  or  of 
leaving  in  the  shade  its  vices  and  its  evils. 

This  mixture  of  good  and  evil,  of  strong  and  weak — this 
co-existence  of  ideas  and  sentiments  apparently  contradictory 
— this  variety,  this  incoherence,  this  unequal  development  of 
human  nature  and  human  destiny — is  precisely  the  condition 
which  is  the  most  rife  with  poetry,  for  through  it  we  see  to  the 
bottom  of  things,  it  is  the  truth  concerning  man  and  the  world  : 
and  in  the  ideal  pictures  which  poetry,  romance,  and  even 
history,  make  of  it,  this  so  various  and  yet  harmonious  whole 
ought  to  be  found,  for  without  it  the  true  ideal  will  be  want- 
ing, no  less  than  the  reality.  Now  it  is  into  this  fault  that  the 
writers  of  whom  I  speak  have  always  fallen ;  their  pictures 
of  savage  man  and  of  savage  life  are  essentially  incomplete, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  165 

formal,  factitious,  and  wanting  in  simplicity  and  harmony. 
One  fancies  that  one  sees  melodramatic  barbarians  and 
savages,  who  present  themselves  to  display  their  independence, 
their  energy,  their  skill,  or  such  and  such  a  portion  of  their 
character  and  destiny,  before  the  eyes  of  spectators  who,  at 
once  greedy  of,  but  worn  out  with  excitement,  still  take  plea- 
sure in  qualities  and  adventures  foreign  to  the  life  they  them- 
selves lead,  and  to  the  society  by  which  they  are  surrounded. 
I  know  not  whether  you  are  struck,  as  I  am,  with  the  defects 
of  the  imagination  in  our  times.  Upon  the  whole,  it  seems  to 
me  that  it  lacks  nature,  facility,  and  extension ;  it  does  not 
take  a  large  and  simple  view  of  things  in  their  primitive  and 
real  elements  ;  it  arranges  them  theatrically,  and  mutilates 
them  under  pretence  of  idealizing  them.  It  is  true  that  I 
find,  in  the  modern  descriptions  of  ancient  German  manners, 
some  scattered  characteristics  of  barbarism,  but  I  can  dis- 
cover nothing  therefrom  of  what  barbarous  society  was  as  a 
whole. 

If  I  were  obliged  to  sum  up  that  which  I  have  now  said 
upon  the  state  of  the  Germans  before  the  invasion,  I  confess 
I  should  be  somewhat  embarrassed.  We  find  therein  no  pre- 
cise and  well  defined  traits  which  may  be  detached  and  dis- 
tinctly exhibited ;  no  fact,  no  idea,  no  sentiment  had  as  yet 
attained  to  its  development,  or  as  yet  presented  itself  under  a 
determinate  form  ;  it  was  the  infancy  of  all  things,  of  the 
social  and  moral  states,  of  institutions,  of  relations,  of  man 
himself;  everything  was  rough  and  confused.  There  are, 
however,  two  points  to  which  I  think  I  ought  to  direct  your 
attention. 

1st.  At  the  opening  of  modern  civilization,  the  Germans 
influenced  it  far  less  by  the  institutions  which  they  brought 
with  them  from  Germany,  than  by  their  situation  itself, 
amidst  the  Roman  world.  They  had  conquered  it :  they  were, 
at  least  upon  the  spot  where  they  had  established  themselves, 
masters  of  the  population  and  of  the  territory.  The  society 
which  formed  itself  after  this  conquest,  arose  rather  from  this 
situation,  from  the  new  life  led  by  the  conquerors  in  their 
relations  with  the  conquered,  than  from  the  ancient  German 
manners. 

2d.  That  which  the  Germans  especially  brought  into  the 
Roman  world  was  the  spirit  of  individual  liberty,  the  need, 
the  passion  for  independence  and  individuality.  To  speak 
properly,  no  public   power,  no  religious  power,  existed   in 

22 


166  HISTORY    OF 

ancient  Germany ;  the  only  real  power  in  this  society,  tnd 
only  power  that  was  strong  and  active  in  it,  was  the  will 
of  man ;  each  one  did  what  he  chose,  at  his  own  risk  and 
peril. 

The  system  of  force,  that  is  to  say,  of  personal  liberty,  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  social  state  of  the  Germans.  Through 
this  it  was  that  their  influence  became  so  powerful  upon  the 
modern  world.  Very  general  expressions  border  always  so 
nearly  upon  inaccuracy,  that  I  do  not  like  to  risk  them. 
Nevertheless,  were  it  absolutely  necessary  to  express  in  few 
words  the  predominating  characters  of  the  various  elements 
of  our  civilization,  I  should  say,  that  the  spirit  of  legality,  of 
regular  association,  came  to  us  from  the  Roman  world,  from 
the  Roman  municipalities  and  laws.  It  is  to  Christianity,  to 
the  religious  society,  that  we  owe  the  spirit  of  morality,  the 
sentiment  and  empire  of  rule,  of  a  moral  law,  of  the  mutual 
duties  of  men.  The  Germans  conferred  upon  us  the  spirit 
of  liberty,  of  liberty  such  as  we  conceive  of,  and  are  ac- 
quainted with  it,  in  the  present  day,  as  the  right  and  property 
of  each  individual,  master  of  himself,  of  his  actions,  and  of 
his  fate,  so  long  as  he  injures  no  other  individual.  This  is  a 
fact  of  universal  importance,  for  it  was  unknown  to  all  pre- 
ceding civilizations :  in  the  ancient  republics,  the  public  power 
disposed  all  things ;  the  individual  was  sacrificed  to  the 
citizen.  In  the  societies  where  the  religious  principle  pre- 
dominated, the  believer  belonged  to  his  God,  not  to  himself. 
Thus,  man  hitherto  had  always  been  absorbed  in  the  church 
or  in  the  state.  In  modern  Europe,  alone,  has  he  existed  and 
developed  himself  on  his  own  account  and  in  his  own  way, 
charged,  no  doubt,  charged  continually,  more  and  more 
heavily  with  toils  and  duties,  but  finding  in  himself  his  aim 
and  his  right.  It  is  to  German  manners  that  we  must  trace 
this  distinguishing  characteristic  of  our  civilization.  The 
fundamental  idea  of  liberty,  in  modern  Europe,  came  to  it  from 
its  conquerors. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE  i67 


EIGHTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — True  character  of  the  German  invasions — Causa 
of  errors  on  this  subject — Description  of  the  state  of  Gaul  in  the 
last  half  of  the  sixth  century — Dissolution  of  Roman  society :  1.  In 
rural  districts  ;  2.  In  towns,  though  in  a  lesser  degree — Dissolution 
of  German  society  :  1.  Of  the  colony  or  tribe ;  2.  Of  the  warfaring 
band — Elements  of  the  new  social  state  :  1.  Of  commencing  royalty  ; 
2.  Of  commencing  feudalism  ;  3.  Of  the  church,  after  the  invasion 
— Summary. 

We  are  now  in  possession  of  the  two  primitive  and  funda- 
mental elements  of  French  civilization  ;  we  have  studied,  on 
the  one  hand,  Roman  civilization,  on  the  other,  German  so- 
ciety, each  in  itself,  and  prior  to  their  apposition.  Let  us 
endeavor  to  ascertain  what  happened  in  the  moment  at  which 
they  touched  together,  and  became  confounded  with  one 
another ;  that  is  to  say,  to  describe  the  condition  of  Gaul  after 
the  great  invasion  and  settlement  of  the  Germans. 

I  should  wish  to  assign  to  this  description  a  somewhat 
precise  date,  and  to  inform  you,  beforehand,  to  what  age  and 
to  what  territory  it  especially  belongs.  The  difficulty  of  doing 
this  is  great.  Such,  at  this  epoch,  was  the  confusion  of  things 
and  minds,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  facts  have  been  trans- 
mitted to  us  without  order  and  without  date ;  particularly 
general  facts,  those  connected  with  institutions,  with  the  re- 
lations of  the  different  classes,  in  a  word,  with  the  social 
condition  ;  facts  which,  by  nature,  are  the  least  apparent  and 
the  least  precise.  They  are  omitted  or  strangely  confused 
in  contemporary  monuments ;  we  must,  at  every  step,  guess 
at  and  restore  their  chronology.  Happily,  the  accuracy  of 
this  chronology  is  of  less  importance  at  this  epoch  than  at 
any  other.  No  doubt,  between  the  sixth  and  eighth  centu- 
ries, the  state  of  Gaul  must  have  changed  ;  relations  of  men, 
institutions  and  manners  must  have  been  modified ;  less, 
however,  than  we  might  be  tempted  to  believe.  The  chaos 
was  extreme,  and  chaos  is  essentially  stationary.  When  all 
things  are  disordered  and  confounded  to  this  degree,  they 
require  much  time  for  unravelling  and  re-arranging  them- 


168  HISTORY    OF 

selves ;  much  time  is  needed  for  each  of  the  elements  to  return 
o  its  place,  to  re-enter  its  right  path,  to  place  itself  again  in 
some  measure  under  the  direction  and  motive  force  of  the 
special  principle  which  should  govern  its  development.  After 
the  settlement  of  the  barbarians  upon  the  Roman  soil,  events 
and  men  revolved  for  a  long  time  in  the  same  circle,  a  prey 
to  a  movement  more  violent  than  progressive.  Thus,  from 
the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the  state  of  Gaul  changed 
less,  and  the  strict  chronology  of  general  facts  is  of  less  im- 
portance than  we  might  naturally  presume  from  the  length 
of  the  interval.  Let  us,  nevertheless,  endeavor  to  determine, 
within  certain  limits,  the  epoch  of  which  we  are  now  to  trace 
the  picture. 

The  true  Germanic  people  who  occupied  Gaul  were  the 
Burgundians,  the  Visigoths,  and  the  Franks.  Many  other 
people,  many  other  single  bands  of  Vandals,  Alani,  Suevi, 
Saxons,  &c,  wandered  over  its  territory ;  but  of  these,  some 
only  passed  over  it,  and  the  others  were  rapidly  absorbed  by 
it ;  these  are  partial  incursions  which  are  without  any  histo- 
rical importance.  The  Burgundians,  the  Visigoths,  and  the 
Franks,  alone  deserve  to  be  counted  among  our  ancestors. 
The  Burgundians  definitively  established  themselves  in  Gaul 
between  the  years  406  and  413  ;  they  occupied  the  country 
between  the  Jura,  the  Sa6ne,  and  the  Durance  ;  Lyons  was 
the  centre  of  their  dominion.  The  Visigoths,  between  the 
years  412  and  450,  spread  themselves  over  the  provinces 
bounded  by  the  Rhone,  and  even  over  the  left  bank  of  the 
Rhone  to  the  south  of  the  Durance,  the  Loire,  and  the  Pyre- 
nees :  their  king  resided  at  Toulouse.  The  Franks,  between 
the  years  481  and  500,  advanced  in  the  north  of  Gaul,  and 
established  themselves  between  the  Rhine,  the  Scheldt,  and 
the  Loire,  without  including  Brittany  and  the  western  por- 
tions of  Normandy ;  Clovis  had  Soissons  and  Paris  for  his 
capitals.  Thus,  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  was  accom- 
plished the  definitive  occupation  of  the  territory  of  Gaul  by 
the  three  great  German  tribes. 

The  condition  of  Gaul  was  not  exactly  the  same  in  its 
various  parts,  and  under  the  dominion  of  these  three  nations. 
There  were  remarkable  differences  between  them.  The 
Franks  were  far  more  foreign,  German,  and  barbarous,  than 
the  Burgundians  and  the  Goths.  Before  their  entrance  into 
Gaul,  these  last  had  had  ancient  relations  with  the  Romans ; 
they  had  lived  in  the  eastern  empire,  in  Italy ;  they  were 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  169 

familiar  with  the  Roman  manners  and  population.  We  may 
say  almost  as  much  for  the  Burgundians.  Moreover,  the  two 
nations  had  long  been  Christians.  The  Franks,  on  the  con- 
trary,  arrived  from  Germany  in  the  condition  of  pagans  and 
enemies.  Those  portions  of  Gaul  which  they  occupied  be- 
came deeply  sensible  of  this  difference,  which  is  described 
with  truth  and  vivacity  in  the  seventh  of  the  "  Lectures  upon 
the  History  of  France,"  of  M.  Augustin  Thierry.  I  am  in- 
clined, however,  to  believe  that  it  was  less  important  than  has 
been  commonly  supposed.  If  I  do  not  err,  the  Roman  pro- 
vinces differed  more  among  themselves  than  did  the  nations 
which  had  conquered  them.  You  have  already  seen  how 
much  more  civilized  was  southern  than  northern  Gaul,  how 
much  more  thickly  covered  with  population,  towns,  monu- 
ments, and  roads.  Had  the  Visigoths  arrived  in  as  barbarous 
a  condition  as  that  of  the  Franks,  their  barbarism  would  yet 
have  been  far'  less  visible  and  less  powerful  in  Gallia  Nar- 
bonensis  and  in  Aquitania ;  Roman  civilization  would  much 
sooner  have  absorbed  and  altered  them.  This,  I  believe,  is 
what  happened ;  and  the  different  effects  which  accompanied 
the  three  conquests  resulted  rather  from  the  differences  of  the 
conquered  than  from  that  of  the  conquerors. 

Besides,  this  difference,  sensible  so  long  as  we  confine  our- 
selves to  a  very  general  view  of  things,  becomes  effaced,  or 
at  least  very  difficult  to  be  perceived,  when  we  go  farther  on 
with  the  study  of  the  society.  It  may  be  said  that  the  Franks 
were  more  barbarous  than  the  Visigoths ;  but,  that  being  said, 
we  must  stop.  In  what  consisted  the  positive  differences  be- 
tween the  two  peoples,  in  institutions,  ideas,  and  relations  of 
classes  1  No  precise  record  contains  an  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion. Finally,  the  difference  of  condition  in  the  provinces  of 
Gaul,  that  difference,  at  least,  which  was  referable  to  their 
masters,  soon  disappeared  or  became  greatly  lessened.  About 
the  year  534,  the  country  of  the  Burgundians  fell  under  the 
yoke  of  the  Franks ;  between  the  years  507  and  542,  that  of 
the  Visigoths  became  subject  to  nearly  the  same  fate.  In  the 
middle  of  the  sixth  century,  the  Frank  race  had  spread  itself 
and  obtained  dominion  throughout  Gaul.  The  Visigoths  still 
possessed  a  part  of  Languedoc,  and  still  disputed  the  posses- 
sion of  some  towns  at  the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees ;  but,  properly 
speaking,  Brittany  excepted,  the  whole  of  Gaul  was,  if  not 
governed,  at  least  overrun  by  the  Franks. 

It  is  wi*h  the  Gaul  of  this  epoch  that  I  desire  to  make  ycu 


170  HISTORY    OF 

acquainted ;  it  is  the  state  of  Gaul  about  the  last  half  of  tht 
sixth  century,  and,  above  all,  of  Frankish  Gaul,  thai  I  shall 
now  endeavor  to  describe.  Any  attempt  to  assign  a  more 
precise  date  to  this  description  would  be  vain  and  fertile  in 
errors.  No  doubt  there  was  still,  at  this  epoch,  much  variety 
in  the  condition  of  the  Gaulish  provinces ;  but  I  shall  attempt 
to  estimate  it  no  farther,  remaining  satisfied  with  having 
warned  you  of  its  existence. 

It  seems  to  me  that  people  commonly  form  to  themselves 
a  very  false  idea  of  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians,  and  of  the 
extent  and  rapidity  of  its  effects.  You  have,  in  your  reading 
upon  this  subject,  often  met  with  the  words  inundation,  earth- 
quake, conflagration.  These  are  the  terms  which  have  been 
employed  to  characterize  this  revolution.  I  think  that  they 
are  deceptive,  that  they  in  no  way  represent  the  manner  in 
which  this  invasion  occurred,  nor  its  immediate  results.  Ex- 
aggeration is  natural  to  human  language  ;  words  express  the 
impressions  which  man  receives  from  facts,  rather  than  the 
facts  themselves ;  it  is  after  having  passed  through  the  mind 
of  man,  and  according  to  the  impressions  which  they  have 
produced  thereupon,  that  facts  are  described  and  named. 
But  the  impression  is  never  the  complete  and  faithful  image 
of  the  fact.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  individual,  which  the  fact 
is  not ;  great  events,  the  invasion  of  a  foreign  people,  for  in- 
stance, are  related  by  those  who  have  been  personally  affected, 
as  victims,  actors,  or  spectators  :  they  relate  the  event  as  they 
have  seen  it ;  they  characterize  it  according  to  what  they 
have  known  or  undergone.  He  who  has  seen  his  house  or 
his  village  burnt,  will,  perhaps,  call  the  invasion  a  conflagra- 
tion ;  to  the  thought  of  another,  it  will  be  found  arrayed  k> 
the  form  of  a  deluge  or  an  earthquake.  These  images  arr 
true,  but  are  of  a  truth  which,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  is 
full  of  prejudice  and  egoism  ;  they  re-produce  the  impressions 
of  some  few  men ;  they  are  not  expressions  of  the  fact  in  its 
entire  extent,  nor  of  the  manner  in  which  it  impressed  the 
whole  of  the  country. 

Such,  moreover,  is  the  instinctive  poetry  of  the  humai. 
mind,  that  it  receives  from  facts  an  impression  which  is  live- 
lier and  greater  than  are  the  facts  themselves ;  it  is  its  ten 
dency  to  extend  and  ennoble  them ;  they  are  for  it  but 
matter  which  it  fashions  and  forms,  a  theme  upon  which  it 
exercises  itself,  and  from  which  it  draws,  or  rather  over  whicb 
>t  spreads,  beauties  and  effects  which  were  not  really  there. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  171 

Thus,  a  double  and  contrary  cause  fills  language  with  illu- 
sion ;  under  a  material  point  of  view,  facts  are  greater  than 
man,  and  he  perceives  and  describes  of  them  only  that  which 
strikes  him  personally ;  under  the  moral  point  of  view,  man 
is  greater  than  facts ;  and,  in  describing  them,  he  lends  them 
something  of  his  own  greatness. 

This  is  what  we  must  never  forget  in  studying  history, 
particularly  in  reading  contemporary  documents ;  they  are 
at  once  incomplete  and  exaggerated ;  they  omit  and  amplify : 
we  must  always  distrust  the  impression  conveyed  by  them, 
both  as  too  narrow  and  as  too  poetical ;  we  must  both  add  to 
and  take  from  it.  Nowhere  does  this  double  error  appear 
more  strongly  than  in  the  narratives  of  the  Germanic  inva- 
sion ;  the  words  by  which  it  has  been  described  in  no  way 
represent  it. 

The  invasion,  or  rather,  the  invasions,  were  events  which 
were  essentially  partial,  local,  and  momentary.  A  band  ar- 
rived, usually  far  from  numerous ;  the  most  powerful,  those 
who  founded  kingdoms,  as  the  band  of  Clovis,  scarcely  num- 
bered from  5,000  to  6,000  men ;  the  entire  nation  of  the  Bur- 
gundians  did  not  exceed  60,000  men.  It  rapidly  over-ran  a 
limited  territory ;  ravaged  a  district ;  attacked  a  city,  and 
sometimes  retreated,  carrying  away  its  booty,  and  sometimes 
settled  somewhere,  always  careful  not  to  disperse  itself  too 
much.  We  know  with  what  facility  and  promptitude  such 
events  accomplish  themselves  and  disappear.  Houses  are 
burnt,  fields  are  devastated,  crops  carried  off,  men  killed  or 
led  away  prisoners :  all  this  evil  over,  at  the  end  of  a  few 
days  the  waves  close,  the  ripple  subsides,  individual  sufferings 
are  forgotten,  society  returns,  at  least  in  appearance,  to  its 
former  state.  This  was  the  condition  of  things  in  Gaul  dur- 
ing  the  fourth  century. 

But  we  also  know  that  the  human  society,  that  society 
which  we  call  a  people,  is  not  a  simple  juxta-position  of  iso- 
lated and  fugitive  existence :  were  it  nothing  more,  the  inva- 
sions  of  the  barbarians  would  not  have  produced  the  impression 
which  the  documents  of  the  epoch  depict ;  for  a  long  while 
the  number  of  places  and  men  that  suffered  therefrom  was 
far  inferior  to  the  number  of  those  who  escaped.  But  the 
social  life  of  each  man  is  not  concentrated  in  the  material 
space  which  is  its  theatre,  nor  in  the  passing  moment ;  it 
extends  itself  to  all  Ihe  relations  which  he  has  contracted  upon 
different  points  of  the  land ;  and  not  only  to  those  relations 


..72  HISTORY   OF 

which  he  has  contracted,  but  also  to  those  whicn  he  migh 
contract,  or  can  even  conceive  the  possibility  of  contracting ; 
it  embraces  not  only  the  present,  but  the  future  j  man  lives 
in  a  thousand  spots  which  he  does  not  inhabit,  in  a  thousand 
moments  which,  as  yet,  are  not ;  and  if  this  development  of 
his  life  is  cut  off  from  him,  if  he  is  forced  to  confine  himself 
to  the  narrow  limits  of  his  material  and  actual  existence,  to 
isolate  himself  in  space  and  time,  social  life  is  mutilated,  and 
society  is  no  more. 

And  this  was  the  effect  of  the  invasions,  of  those  appa- 
ritions of  barbarous  hordes,  short,  it  is  true,  and  limited,  but 
reviving  without  cessation,  everywhere  possible,  and  always 
imminent :  they  destroyed,  1st,  all  regular,  habitual,  and  easy 
correspondence  between  the  various  parts  of  the  territory ; 
2d,  all  security,  all  sure  prospect  of  the  future ;  they  broke 
the  ties  which  bound  together  the  inhabitants  of  the  same 
country,  the  moments  of  the  same  life ;  they  isolated  men, 
and  the  days  of  each  man.  In  many  places,  and  for  many 
years,  the  aspect  of  the  country  might  remain  the  same ;  but 
the  social  organization  was  attacked,  the  members  no  longer 
held  together,  the  muscles  no  longer  played,  the  blood  no 
longer  circulated  freely  or  surely  in  the  veins :  the  disease 
appeared  sometimes  at  one  point,  sometimes  at  another :  a 
town  was  pillaged,  a  road  rendered  impassable,  a  bridge 
destroyed ;  such  or  such  a  communication  ceased ;  the  cul- 
ture of  the  land  became  impossible  in  such  or  such  a  district : 
in  a  word,  the  organic  harmony,  the  general  activity  of  the 
social  body,  were  each  day  fettered  and  disturbed  ;  each  day 
dissolution  and  paralysis  made  some  new  advance. 

Thus  was  Roman  society  destroyed  in  Gaul ;  not  as  a 
valley  is  ravaged  by  a  torrent,  but  as  the  most  solid  body  is 
disorganized  by  the  continual  infiltration  of  a  foreign  substance. 
Between  all  the  members  of  the  state,  between  all  the  mo- 
ments of  the  life  of  each  man,  the  barbarians  continually  in- 
truded themselves.  I  lately  endeavored  to  paint  to  you  the 
dismemberment  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  impossibility  under 
which  its  masters  found  themselves  of  holding  together  the 
different  parts,  and  how  the  imperial  administration  was 
obliged  to  retire  spontaneously  from  Britain,  from  Gaul, 
incapable  of  resisting  the  dissolution  of  that  vast  body. 
What  occurred  in  the  Empire  occurred  equally  in  each  pro- 
vince ;  as  the  Empire  had  suffered  disorganization,  so  did  each 
province  j  the  cantons,  the  towns  detached  themselves,  and 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  173 

returned  to  a  local  and  isolated  existence.  The  invasion 
operated  everywhere  in  the  same  manner,  and  everywhere 
produced  the  same  effects.  All  the  ties  by  which  Rome  had 
been  enabled,  after  so  many  efforts,  to  combine  together  the 
different  parts  of  the  world ;  that  great  system  of  administra- 
tion, of  imposts,  of  recruiting,  of  public  works,  of  roads,  had 
not  been  able  to  support  itself.  There  remained  of  it  nothing 
but  what  could  subsist  in  an  isolated  and  local  condition,  that 
is  to  say,  nothing  but  the  wrecks  of  the  municipal  system. 
The  inhabitants  shut  themselves  up  in  the  towns,  where  they 
continued  to  govern  themselves  nearly  as  they  had  done  ol 
old,  with  the  same  rights,  by  the  same  institutions.  A  thou- 
sand circumstances  prove  this  concentration  of  society  in 
towns;  here  is  one  which  has  been  little  noticed.  Under  the 
Roman  administration,  it  is  the  governors  of  provinces,  the 
consuls,  the  correctors,  the  presidents  who  fill  the  scene,  and 
reappear  continually  in  the  laws  and  history ;  in  the  sixth 
century,  their  names  become  much  more  rare  ;  we,  indeed, 
still  meet  with  dukes  and  counts,  to  whom  the  government  of 
the  provinces  was  confided ;  the  barbarian  kings  strove  to 
inherit  the  Roman  administration,  to  preserve  the  same  officers, 
and  to  induce  their  power  to  flow  in  the  same  channels ;  but 
they  succeeded  only  very  incompletely,  and  with  great  dis- 
order ;  their  dukes  were  rather  military  chiefs  than  adminis- 
trators; it  is  manifest  that  the  governors  of  provinces  had  no 
longer  the  same  importance,  and  no  longer  played  the  same 
part ;  the  governors  of  towns  now  filled  history  ;  the  majority 
of  these  counts  of  Chilperic,  of  Gontran,  of  Theodebert, 
whose  exactions  are  related  by  Gregory  of  Tours,  are  counts 
of  towns  established  within  their  walls,  and  by  the  side  of 
their  bishop.  I  should  exaggerate  were  I  to  say  that  the 
province  disappeared,  but  it  became  disorganized,  and  lost  all 
consistency,  and  almost  all  reality.  The  towns,  the  primitive 
elements  of  the  Roman  world,  survived  almost  alone  amidst 
its  ruin.  The  rural  districts  became  the  prey  of  the  barba- 
rians ;  it  was  there  that  they  established  themselves  with  their 
men  ;  it  was  there  that  they  were  about  to  introduce  by 
degrees  totally  new  institutions,  and  a  new  organization,  but 
till  then  the  rural  districts  will  occupy  scarcely  any  place  in 
society ;  they  will  be  but  the  theatre  of  excursions,  pillages, 
and  misery. 

Even  within  the  towns  the  ancient  society  was  far  frona 
maintaining  itself  strong  and  entire.     Amidst  the  movemen 


174  HISTORY    OF 

of  the  invasions,  the  towns  were  regarded  above  all  as  for. 
tresses ;  the  population  shut  themselves  therein  to  escapa 
from  the  hordes  which  ravaged  the  country.  When  the  bar. 
barous  immigration  was  somewhat  diminished,  when  the  new 
people  had  planted  themselves  upon  the  territory,  the  towns 
still  remained  fortresses :  in  place  of  having  to  defend  them- 
selves against  the  wandering  hordes,  they  had  to  defend  them- 
selves against  their  neighbors,  against  the  greedy  and  tur. 
bulent  possessors  of  the  surrounding  country.  There  was 
therefore  little  security  behind  those  weak  ramparts.  Towns 
are  unquestionably  centres  of  population  and  of  labor, 
but  under  certain  conditions;  under  the  condition,  on  the 
one  hand,  that  the  country  population  cultivate  for  them  ;  on 
*he  other,  that  an  extended  and  active  commerce  consume  the 
products  of  the  citizens'  labor.  If  agriculture  and  commerce 
decay,  towns  must  decay  j  their  prosperity  and  their  power 
cannot  be  isolated.  Now  you  have  just  seen  into  what 
a  condition  the  rural  districts  of  Gaul  had  fallen  in  the  sixth 
century  j  the  towns  were  able  to  escape  for  some  time,  but 
from  day  to  day  the  evil  threatened  to  conquer  them.  Finally, 
it  did  conquer  them,  and  very  soon  this  last  wreck  of  the 
Empire  seemed  stricken  with  the  same  weakness,  and  a  prey 
to  the  same  dissolution. 

Such,  in  the  sixth  century,  were  the  general  effects  of  the 
invasion  and  establishment  of  the  barbarians  upon  Roman 
society  ;  that  was  the  condition  in  which  they  had  placed  it. 
Let  us  now  inquire,  what  was  the  consequence  of  these  facts, 
with  regard  to  the  second  element  of  modern  civilization,  the 
German  society  itself? 

A.  great  mistake  lies  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  the  researches 
which  have  bean  made  upon  this  subject.  The  institutions 
of  the  Germans  have  been  studied  in  Germany,  and  then  trans- 
ported just  as  they  were  into  Gaul,  in  the  train  of  the  Ger- 
mans. It  has  been  assumed  that  the  German  society  was  in 
much  the  same  condition  after  as  before  the  conquest ;  and 
persons  have  reasoned  from  this  postulate  in  determining  the 
influence  of  the  conquest,  and  in  assigning  to  it  its  part  in  the 
development  of  modern  civilization.  Nothing  can  be  more 
false  and  more  deceptive.  The  German  society  was  modified, 
defaced,  dissolved,  by  the  invasion,  no  less  than  the  Roman 
society.  In  this  great  commotion  a  wreck  was  all  that 
remained  to  each ;  the  social  organization  of  the  conquerors 
perished  like  that  of  the  conquered. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  175 

Two  societies — at  bottom  perhaps  more  like  eacn  other  than 
has  been  supposed,  distinct,  nevertheless — subsisted  in  Ger. 
many  :  first,  the  society  of  the  colony  or  tribe,  tending  to  a 
sedentary  condition,  and  existing  upon  a  limited  territory 
which  it  cultivated  by  means  of  laborers  and  slaves;  second; 
the  society  of  the  warfaring  horde,  accidentally  grouped  around 
some  famous  chief,  and  leading  a  wandering  life.  This  mani- 
festly results  from  the  facts  which  I  have  already  described 
to  you. 

To  the  first  of  these  two  societies,  to  the  tribes,  are,  in  a 
certain  measure,  applicable  those  descriptions  of  the  condition  of 
the  ancient  Germans  by  modern  Germans,  concerning  wnich  I 
have  already  spoken.  When,  in  fact,  a  tribe,  small  in  number 
as  were  all  the  tribes,  occupied  a  limited  territory  ;  when  each 
head  of  a  family  was  established  upon  his  domain,  in  the  midst 
of  his  people,  the  social  organization  which  has  been  described 
by  these  writers  might  well  exist,  if  not  completely  and 
effectively,  at  least  in  the  rough  sketch;  the  assembly  of  pro- 
prietors, of  heads  of  families,  decided  upon  all  matters ;  each 
horde  had  its  own  assembly  ;  justice  was  dispensed  to  them  by 
the  freemen  themselves,  under  the  direction  of  the  aged ; 
a  kind  of  public  polity  might  arise  between  the  confederate 
hordes  ;  free  institutions  were  then  under  the  form  in  which 
we  meet  them  in  the  infancy  of  nations. 

The  organization  of  the  warfaring  band  was  different ; 
another  principle  presided  in  it,  the  principle  of  the  patronage 
of  the  chief,  of  aristocratic  clientship,  and  military  subordina- 
tion. It  is  with  regret  that  I  make  use  of  these  last  words  ; 
they  art  ill  suited  to  barbarian  hordes  ;  yet,  however 
barbarian  men  may  be,  a  kind  of  discipline  necessarily  in- 
troduces itself  between  the  chief  and  his  warriors ;  and  in 
this  case  there  must  assuredly  exist  more  arbitrary  authority, 
more  forced  obedience,  than  in  associations  which  have  not 
war  for  their  object.  The  German  warfaring  band  therefore 
contained  a  political  element  that  was  not  possessed  by  the 
tribe.  At  the  same  time,  however,  its  freedom  was  great :  no 
man  engaged  therein  against  his  will ;  the  German  was  born 
within  his  tribe,  and  thus  belonged  to  a  situation  which  was 
not  one  of  his  choice ;  the  warrior  chose  his  chief  and  his 
oompanions,  and  undertook  nothing  but  with  the  consent  of 
n:s  own  free  will.  Besides,  in  the  bosom  of  the  warfaring 
band,  the  inequality  was  not  great  between  the  chiefs  and 
Jheirmen  ;  there  was  nothing  more  than  the  natural  inequality 


170  HISTORY    OF 

of  strength,  skill,  or  courage  ;  an  inequality  which  afterwards 
becomes  fruitful,  and  which  produces  sooner  or  later  immense 
results,  but  which,  at  the  outset  of  society,  displays  itself 
only  in  very  narrow  limits.  Although  the  chief  had  the 
largest  share  of  the  booty,  although  he  possessed  more  horses 
and  more  arms,  he  was  not  so  superior  in  riches  to  his  com- 
panions as  to  be  able  to  dispose  of  them  without  their  con- 
sent ;  each  warrior  entered  the  association  with  his  strength 
and  his  courage,  differing  very  little  from  the  others,  and  at 
liberty  to  leave  it  whenever  he  pleased. 

Such  were  the  two  primitive  German  societies  :  what  did 
they  become  by  the  fact  of  the  invasion  ?  what  change 
did  it  necessarily  work  upon  them  ?  By  ascertaining  this 
alone  it  is  that  we  can  learn  what  German  society  truly  was 
after  its  transplantation  to  the  Roman  soil. 

The  characteristic  fact,  the  grand  result  of  the  invasion,  as 
regards  the  Germans,  was  their  change  to  the  condition  of 
proprietors,  the  cessation  of  the  wandering  life,  and  the  defi- 
nitive establishment  of  the  agricultural  life. 

This  fact  accomplished  itself  gradually,  slowly,  and  un- 
equally ;  the  wandering  life  continued  for  a  long  time  in  Gaul, 
at  least  it  so  continued  for  a  great  number  of  the  Germans. 
Nevertheless,  when  we  have  estimated  all  these  delays  and 
disorders,  we  see  that,  in  the  end,  the  conquerors  became  pro- 
prietors, that  they  attached  themselves  to  the  soil,  that  landed 
property  was  the  essential  element  of  the  new  social  state. 

What  were  the  consequences  of  this  single  fact,  as  regards 
the  regulation  of  the  warfaring  band  and  of  the  tribe  ? 

As  to  the  tribe,  remember  what  I  have  told  you  of  the 
manner  of  its  territorial  establishment  in  Germany,  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  villages  were  constructed  and  disposed. 
The  population  was  not  condensed  therein  ;  each  family,  each 
habitation  was  isolated  and  surrounded  with  a  plot  of  culti- 
vated ground.  It  is  thus  that  nations,  who  have  only 
arrived  at  this  degree  of  civilization,  arrange  themselves, 
even  when  they  lead  a  sedentary  life. 

When  the  tribe  was  transplanted  to  the  soil  of  Gaul,  the 
habitations  became  yet  further  dispersed  ;  the  chiefs  of  families 
established  themselves  at  a  much  greater  distance  from  one 
another ;  they  occupied  vast  domains ;  their  houses  afterwards 
became  castles.  The  villages  which  formed  themselves  around 
them  were  no  longer  peopled  with  men  who  were  free,  who 
Were  their  equals,  but  with  laborers  who  were  attached  to 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  177 

their  lands.  Thus,  in  its  material  relations,  t  *e  tribe  became 
dissolved  by  the  single  fact  of  its  new  establishment. 

You  may  easily  guess  what  effect  this  single  change  was 
calculated  to  exert  upon  its  institutions.  The  assembly  of  free- 
men, wherein  all  things  were  debated,  was  now  got  together 
with  much  greater  difficulty.  So  long  as  they  had  lived 
near  to  one  another,  there  was  no  need  of  any  great  art,  or 
wise  combinations,  in  order  that  they  might  treat  in  common  of 
their  affairs ;  but  when  a  population  is  scattered,  in  order  that 
the  principles  and  forms  of  free  institutions  may  remain 
applicable  to  it,  great  social  development  is  necessary,  riches, 
intelligence,  in  short,  a  thousand  things  are  necessary,  which 
were  wanting  to  the  German  horde,  transported  suddenly 
to  a  territory  far  more  extensive  than  that  which  it 
had  hitherto  occupied.  The  system  which  regulated  its 
existence  in  Germany  now  perished.  In  looking  over  the 
most  ancient  German  laws — those  of  the  Allemanni,  Boii, 
and  Franks — we  see  that,  originally,  the  assembly  of  freemen 
in  each  district  was  held  very  frequently,  at  first,  every  week, 
and  afterwards,  every  month.  All  questions  were  carried 
before  it ;  judgments  were  given  there,  and  not  only  criminal, 
but  also  civil  judgments :  almost  all  acts  of  civil  life  were 
done  in  its  presence,  as  sales,  donations,  &c.  When  once  the 
tribe  was  established  in  Gaul,  the  assemblies  became  rare  and 
difficult ;  so  difficult,  that  it  was  necessary  to  employ  force 
to  make  the  freemen  attend  :  this  is  the  object  of  many 
legal  decrees.  And  if  you  pass  suddenly  from  the  fourth 
to  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  you  find  that  at  this  last 
epoch  there  were  in  each  county  but  three  assemblies  of  free- 
men  in  the  year :  and  these  not  regularly  kept,  as  is  proved 
by  some  of  Charlemagne's  laws. 

If  other  proofs  were  necessary,  here  is  one  which  deserves 
to  be  noticed.  When  the  assemblies  were  frequent,  freemen, 
under  the  name  of  rachimburgi,  arhimanni,  boni  homines, 
and  in  various  forms,  decided  upon  affairs.  When  they  no 
longer  attended,  it  became  necessary,  upon  urgent  occasions, 
to  supply  their  places ;  and  thus  we  see,  at  the  end  of  the 
eighth  century,  the  freemen  replaced  in  judicial  functions  by 
permanent  judges.  The  scabini,  or  sheriffs  of  Charlemagne, 
were  regular  judges.  In  each  county,  five,  seven,  or  nine  free- 
men were  appointed  by  the  count,  or  other  local  magistrate, 
and  charged  to  present  themselves  at  the  assembly  of  the 
aountry  to  decide    upon  cases.     The   primitive    institution! 


178  HISTORY    OF 

were  become  impracticable,  and  the  judicial  power  passed 
from  the  people  to  the  magistrates. 

Such  was  the  state  into  which  the  first  element  of  German 
society,  the  colony  or  tribe,  fell  after  the  invasion  and  under 
its  influence.  Politically  speaking,  it  was  disorganized,  as 
Roman  society  had  been.  As  to  the  warfaring  band,  facts 
accomplished  themselves  in  another  way,  and  under  a  different 
form,  but  with  the  same  results. 

When  a  band  arrived  anywhere,  and  took  possession  of  the 
land,  or  of  a  portion  of  it,  we  must  not  believe  that  this  occu- 
pation took  place  systematically,  or  that  the  territory  was 
divided  by  lots,  and  that  each  warrior  received  one, 
proportionate  to  his  importance  or  his  rank.  The  chiefs 
of  the  band,  or  the  different  chiefs  who  were  united  in  it, 
appropriated  to  themselves  vast  domains.  The  greater  part 
of  the  warriors  who  had  followed  them  continued  to  live 
around  them,  with  them,  and  at  their  table,  without  possessing 
any  property  which  belonged  especially  to  them.  The  band 
did  not  dissolve  into  individuals  of  whom  each  became  a  pro- 
prietor ;  the  most  considerable  warriors  entered  almost  alone 
into  this  situation.  Had  they  dispersed  themselves,  in  order 
that  each  one  might  establish  himself  upon  a  spot  of  the 
territory,  their  safety  amidst  the  original  population  would 
have  been  compromised ;  it  was  necessary  that  they  should 
remain  united  in  groups.  Moreover,  it  was  by  the  life  in 
common  that  the  pleasures  of  the  barbarians,  gaming,  the 
chase,  and  banquets,  could  alone  subsist.  How  could  they 
have  resigned  themselves  to  isolation  ?  Isolation  is  only 
supportable  in  a  laborious  condition ;  man  cannot  remain  idle 
and  alone.  Now,  the  barbarians  were  essentially  idle  ;  they 
therefore  required  to  live  together,  and  many  companions 
remained  about  their  chief,  leading  upon  his  domains  pretty 
nearly  the  same  life  which  they  had  led  before  in  his  train. 
But  from  these  circumstances  it  arose  that  their  relative 
situation  was  completely  altered.  Very  soon  a  prodigious 
inequality  sprang  up  between  them  :  their  inequality  no  longer 
consisted  in  some  personal  difference  of  strength  or  of  courage, 
or  in  a  more  or  less  considerable  share  of  cattle,  slaves,  or 
valuable  goods.  The  chief,  become  a  great  proprietor,  dis- 
posed of  many  of  the  means  of  power ;  the  others  Were  always 
simple  warriors ;  and  the  more  the  ideas  of  property  established 
and  extended  themselves  in  men's  minds,  the  more  was  in- 
equality, with  its  effects,  developed.     At  this  period  we  find 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  17P 

a  treat  number  of  freemen  falling  by  degrees  into  a  very 
ihierior  position.  The  laws  speak  constantly  of  freemen,  of 
Franks,  living  upon  the  lands  of  another,  and  reduced  almost 
to  the  situation  of  the  laborers.1  The  band,  regarded  as  a 
peculiar  society,  reposed  upon  two  facts — the  voluntary  asso- 
ciation of  the  warriors  in  order  to  lead  in  common  a  wander- 
ing  life,  and  their  equality.  These  two  facts  perished  in  the 
results  of  the  invasion,  On  one  hand,  the  wandering  life 
ended — on  the  other,  inequality  introduced  itself,  and  in- 
creased from  day  to  day,  among  the  sedentary  warriors. 

The  progressive  parcelling  out  of  lands,  during  the  three 
centuries  after  the  invasion,  did  not  change  this  result. 
There  are  none  of  you  who  have  not  heard  of  the  fees 
that  the  king,  or  the  great  chiefs  who  occupied  a  vast 
territory,  distributed  to  their  men,  to  attach  them  to  their 
service,  or  to  recompense  them  for  services  done.  This 
practice,  in  proportion  as  it  extended,  produced,  upon  what 
remained  of  the  warfaring  band,  effects  analogous  to  those 
which  I  have  pointed  out  to  you.  On  one  hand,  the 
warrior  upon  whom  the  chief  had  conferred  the  fee,  de 
parted  to  inhabit  it, — a  new  source  of  isolation  and  indivi- 
duality ;  on  the  other,  this  warrior  had  usually  a  certain  num- 
ber of  men  attached  to  him ;  or  he  sought  and  found  men  who 
would  come  to  live  with  him  upon  his  domain  ; — a  new  source 
of  inequality.  Such  were  the  general  effects  of  the  invasion 
upon  the  two  ancient  Germanic  societies,  the  tribe  and  the 
wandering  band.  They  became  equally  disorganized,  and 
entered  upon  totally  different  situations,  upon  totally  new 
relations.  In  order  to  bind  them  among  themselves  anew, 
in  order  to  form  society  anew,  and  to  deduce  from  that  society 
a  government,  it  became  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  other 
principles,  to  other  institutions.  Dissolved,  like  Roman 
society,  German  society,  in  like  manner,  furnished  to  the 
society  which  followed  it  nothing  but  wrecks. 

I  hope  that  these  expressions,  society  dissolved,  society  which 
perislied,  do  not  mislead  you,  and  that  you  understand  them 
in  their  right  sense.  A  society  never  dissolves  itself,  but 
because  a  new  society  is  fermenting  and  forming  in  its 
bosom ;  the  concealed  work  it  is  there  going  on  which  tends 
o  separate  its  elements,,  in  order  to  arrange  them  under  new 


i  Essai9  sur  PHistoire  de  France,  pp.  109 — 111 


180  HISTORY    OF 

combinations.  Such  a  disorganization  shows  that  facts  are 
changed,  that  the  relations  and  dispositions  of  men  are  no 
longer  the  same  ;  that  other  principles  and  other  forms  are 
ready  to  assume  the  predominance.  Thus,  in  affirming  that 
in  the  sixth  century,  ancient  society,  Roman  as  well  as  Ger- 
man, was  dissolved  in  Gaul  by  the  results  of  the  invasion,  we 
say  that,  by  the  same  causes,  at  the  same  epoch,  and  upon 
the  same  ground,  modern  society  began. 

We  have  no  means  of  explaining  or  clearly  contemplating 
this  first  labor ;  the  original  sources,  the  original  creation,  is 
profoundly  concealed,  and  does  not  manifest  itself  outwardly 
until  later,  when  it  has  already  made  considerable  progress. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  possible  to  foresee  it ;  and  it  is  important 
that  you  should  know,  at  once,  what  was  fermenting  and 
being  formed  beneath  this  general  dissolution  of  the  two 
elements  of  modern  society  ;  I  will  endeavor  to  give  you  an 
idea  of  this  in  few  words. 

The  first  fact  of  which  we  catch  a  glimpse  at  this  period, 
is  a  certain  tendency  to  the  development  of  royalty.  Persons 
have  often  praised  barbarian  at  the  expense  of  modern  royalty, 
wrongfully,  as  I  think :  in  the  fourth  and  in  the  seventeenth 
centuries  this  word  expresses  two  institutions,  two  powers 
which  are  profoundly  different  from  each  other.  There 
were,  indeed,  among  the  barbarians,  some  germs  of  hereditary 
royalty,  some  traces  of  a  Teligious  character  inherent  in  cer- 
tain families  descended  from  the  first  chiefs  of  the  nations, 
from  heroes  become  gods.  There  can,  however,  be  no  doubt 
but  that  choice,  election,  was  the  principal  source  of  royalty, 
and  that  the  character  of  warlike  chiefs  predominates  in  the 
barbarous  kings. 

When  they  were  transplanted  to  the  Roman  territory,  their 
situation  changed.  They  found  there  a  place  which  was 
empty,  namely,  that  of  the  emperors.  Power,  titles,  and  a 
machine  of  government  with  which  the  barbarians  were 
acquainted,  and  of  which  they  admired  the  splendor  and  soon 
appreciated  the  efficacy,  were  there  ;  they  were,  of  course, 
strongly  tempted  to  appropriate  these  advantages.  Such, 
indeed,  was  the  aim  of  all  their  efforts.  This  fact  appears 
everywhere :  Clovis,  Childebert,  Gontran,  Chilperic,  CJotaire, 
labored  incessantly  to  assume  the  names  and  to  exercise  the 
rights  of  the  Empire ;  they  wished  to  distribute  their  dukes 
and  their  counts  as  the  emperors  had  distributed  their  con- 
suls, their  correctors,  and  their  presidents ;  they  tried  />  re- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  191 

establish  all  that  system  of  taxes,  enlistment,  and  administra- 
tion, which  had  fallen  into  ruin.  In  a  word,  barbaric  royalty, 
narrow  and  crude  as  it  was,  endeavored  to  develope  itself,  and 
fill,  in  some  measure,  the  enormous  frame  of  imperial  royalty. 

For  a  long  while  the  course  of  things  was  not  favorable  to 
it,  and  its  first  attempts  were  attended  with  little  success; 
nevertheless,  we  may  see,  from  the  beginning,  that  something 
of  the  imperial  royalty  will  remain  to  it ;  that  the  new 
royalty  will  by  and  bye  gather  a  portion  of  that  imperial 
inheritance,  the  whole  of  which  it  desired  to  appropriate  at 
the  first ;  immediately  after  the  invasion,  it  became  less  war- 
like, more  religious,  and  more  politic  than  it  had  hitherto  been, 
that  is  to  say,  it  assumed  more  of  the  character  of  the  imperial 
royalty.  Here,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  first  great  fact  of  that 
labor  which  was  about  to  give  birth  to  the  new  society  ;  that 
fact  is  not  clearly  manifest  as  yet,  but  glimpses  of  it  are  easily 
to  be  caught. 

The  second  great  fact  is  the  birth  of  the  territorial  aris- 
tocracy. Property,  for  a  long  time  after  the  settlement  of 
the  barbarians,  seemed  uncertain,  fluctuating  and  confused, 
passing  from  one  hand  to  another  with  surprising  rapidity. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  clear  that  it  prepared  to  become  fixed  in 
the  same  hands,  and  to  regulate  itself.  The  tendency  of 
fees  is  to  become  hereditary ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  obstacles 
which  oppose  it,  the  principle  of  inheritance  prevails  therein 
more  and  more.  At  the  same  time  there  arose  between  the 
possessors  of  the  fees  that  hierarchical  organization  which 
afterwards  became  the  feudal  system.  We  must  not  trans- 
port into  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries  the  feudalism  of  the 
thirteenth  ;  nothing  like  it  then  existed  ;  the  disorder  of  pro- 
perty and  personal  relations  was  infinitely  greater  than  under 
the  feudal  system ;  nevertheless  all  things  concurred,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  render  property  fixed ;  on  the  other,  to  constitute 
the  society  of  the  proprietors  according  to  a  certain  hierarchy. 
As  we  have  seen  royalty  dawning  from  the  end  of  the  sixth 
century,  so  likewise,  we  may  discover,  from  that  period,  the 
dawn  of  feudalism. 

Finally,  a  third  fact  also  developed  itself  at  this  epoch.  I 
have  engaged  your  attention  with  the  state  of  the  church ; 
you  have  seen  what  power  it  had,  and  how  it  was,  so  to 
3peak,  the  sole  living  remnant  of  Roman  society.  When  the 
barbarians  were  established,  let  us  see  in  what  situation  the 
church  found  itself,  or,  at  least,  what  that  situation  soon  be- 


182  HISTORY    OF 

came.  The  bishops  were,  as  you  know,  the  natural  chiefs  of 
the  towns ;  they  governed  the  people  in  the  interior  of  each 
city,  they  represented  them  in  the  presence  of  the  barbarians, 
they  were  their  magistrates  within,  and  their  protectors 
without.  The  clergy  were  therefore  deeply  rooted  in  the 
municipal  system,  that  is  to  say,  in  all  that  remained  of 
Roman  society.  And  they  very  soon  struck  root  in  other 
directions;  the  bishops  became  the  counsellors  of  the  barbarous 
kings ;  they  counselled  them  upon  the  conduct  which  they 
ought  to  observe  towards  the  vanquished  people,  upon  the 
course  they  ought  to  take  in  order  to  become  the  heirs  of 
the  Roman  emperors.  They  had  far  more  experience  and 
political  intelligence  than  the  barbarians,  who  came  fresh 
from  Germany ;  they  had  the  love  of  power,  they  had  been 
accustomed  to  serve  and  to  profit  by  it.  They  were  thus  the 
counsellors  of  the  nascent  royalty,  while  they  remained  the 
magistrates  and  patrons  of  the  still  surviving  municipality. 

Behold  them  connected  on  the  one  hand  with  the  people,  on 
the  other  with  thrones.  But  this  was  not  all ;  a  third  position 
now  opened  itself  to  them  ;  they  became  great  proprietors ; 
they  entered  into  that  hierarchical  organization  of  manorial 
property  which,  as  yet,  scarcely  existed  but  in  tendency  ;  they 
labored  to  occupy,  and  soon  succeeded  in  occupying,  a  con- 
siderable place  therein.  So  that  at  this  epoch,  while  yet  the 
new  society  was  in  its  first  rudiments,  the  church  was  already 
connected  with  all  its  parts,  was  everywhere  in  good  repute 
and  powerful ;  a  sure  sign  that  it  would  be  the  first  to  attain 
dominion  j  as  happened. 

Such  were  the  three  great  facts — obscure  as  yet,  but  visible — 
by  which  the  new  social  order  announced  itself,  at  the  end  of 
the  sixth  and  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century.  It  is,  I 
believe,  impossible  to  mistake  them  •  but,  in  recognizing  them, 
we  must  remember  that  neither  of  them  had  as  yet  taken  the 
position  and  the  form  which  it  was  to  retain.  All  things 
were  still  mixed  and  confused  to  such  a  degree,  that  it 
must  have  been  impossible  for  the  shrewdest  sight  to  have 
discerned  any  of  the  characteristics  of  the  future.  I  have 
already  had  occasion  to  say,  and  in  your  studies  you  have 
had  opportunities  of  becoming  convinced,  that  there  exists 
no  modern  system,  no  pretension  to  power,  which  has  not 
discovered  grounds  for  its  legitimacy  in  these  beginnings  of 
*ur  society.  Royalty  regards  itself  as  the  only  heir  of  the 
Roman  empire.     The  feudal  aristocracy  asserts  that,  at  that 


CIVILISATION    IN    FRANCE.  183 

time,  it  possessed  the  entire  country,  men  and  lands ;  the 
towns  affirm  that  they  succeeded  to  all  the  rights  of  the 
Roman  municipalities ;  the  clergy,  that  they  then  shared 
all  power.  This  singular  epoch  has  lent  itself  to  all  the  re- 
quirements of  party  spirit,  to  all  the  hypotheses  of  science ;  it 
has  furnished  arguments  and  arms  to  nations,  to  kings,  to 
grandees,  to  priests,  to  liberty  as  well  as  to  aristocracy,  to 
aristocracy  as  well  as  to  royalty. 

The  fact  is,  it  carried  all  things  in  its  bosom,  theocracy, 
monarchy,  oligarchy,  republics,  mixed  constitutions ;  and  all 
things  in  a  state  of  confusion  which  has  allowed  each  to  see 
all  that  it  chose  to  see  therein.  The  obscure  and  irregular 
fermentation  of  the  wrecks  of  former  society,  German  as  well 
as  Roman,  and  the  first  labors  of  their  transformation  into 
elements  of  the  new  society,  constituted  the  true  condition  of 
Gaul  during  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  and  this  is  tho 
only  character  we  can  assign  to  it. 


184  HISTORY   OP 


NINTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — False  idea  of  the  Salic  law — History  of  the 
formation  of  this  law — Two  hypotheses  upon  this  matter — Eighteen 
manuscripts — Two  texts  of  the  Salic  law — M.  Wiarda's  work  upon 
the  history  and  exposition  of  the  Salic  law — Prefaces  attached  to  the 
manuscripts — Value  of  national  traditions  concerning  the  origin  and 
compilation  of  the  Salic  law — Concerning  its  tendencies — It  is  essen- 
tially a  penal  code — 1st.  Of  the  enumeration  and  definition  of  of- 
fences in  the  Salic  law  ;  2d.  Of  penalties  ;  3d.  Of  criminal  proce- 
dure— Transitory  character  of  this  legislation. 

We  are  to  occupy  ourselves  now  with  the  barbarian  laws, 
and  especially  with  the  Salic  law,  upon  which  I  must  give 
certain  minute  details,  indispensable  to  a  knowledge  of  the  true 
character  of  this  law,  and  of  the  social  state  which  is  indicated 
thereby.  People  have  been  deeply,  and  for  a  long  while, 
deceived  upon  this  point.  A  greatly  exaggerated  importance 
has  been  attributed  to  the  Salic  law.  You  are  acquainted 
with  the  reason  of  this  error ;  you  know  that  at  the  accession 
of  Philippe-le-Long,  and  during  the  struggle  of  Philippe-de- 
Valois  and  Edward  III.  for  the  crown  of  France,  the  Salic 
law  was  invoked  in  order  to  prevent  the  succession  of  women, 
and  that,  from  that  time,  it  has  been  celebrated  by  a  crowd 
of  writers,  as  the  first  source  of  our  public  law,  as  a  law 
always  in  vigor,  as  the  fundamental  law  of  monarchy. 
Those  who  have  been  the  most  free  from  this  illusion,  as,  for 
example,  Montesquieu,  have  yet  experienced,  to  some  degree, 
its  influence,  and  have  spoken  of  the  Salic  law  with  a  respect 
which  it  is  assuredly  difficult  to  feel  towards  it  when  we  attri- 
bute to  it  only  the  place  that  it  really  holds  in  our  history. 
We  might  be  tempted  to  believe  that  the  majority  of  the 
writers  who  have  spoken  of  this  law  had  studied  neither  its 
history  nor  its  scope  ;  that  they  were  equally  ignorant  of  its 
source  and  of  its  character.  These  are  the  two  questions 
which  we  have  now  to  solve  :  we  must  learn,  on  the  one  hand, 
in  what  manner  the  Salic  law  was  compiled,  when,  where,  by 
whom,  and  for  whom ;  on  the  other,  what  the  object  and  plan 
of  its  dispositions  were. 


CIVILIZATION    in    FRANCE.  185 

As  regards  its  history,  I  pray  you  to  recall  that  which  I 
have  already  told  you  touching  the  double  origin  and  the  in- 
coherence of  the  barbarous  laws ;  they  were,  at  once,  anterior 
and  posterior  to  the  invasion ;  at  once,  German,  and  Germano- 
Roman  :  they  belonged  to  two  different  conditions  of  society. 
This  character  has  influenced  all  the  controversies  of  which 
the  Salic  law  has  been  the  object ;  it  has  given  rise  to  two 
hypotheses  :  according  to  one,  this  law  was  compiled  in  Ger- 
many, upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  long  before  the 
conquest,  and  in  the  language  of  the  Franks ;  everything  in  its 
provisions  which  is  not  suitable  to  that  period,  and  to  ancient 
German  society,  according  to  this  hypothesis,  was  introduced 
afterwards,  in  the  successive  revisions  which  occurred  after 
the  invasion.  According  to  the  other  hypothesis,  the  Salic 
law  was,  on  the  contrary,  compiled  after  the  conquest,  upon 
the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  in  Belgium  or  in  Gaul,  perhaps  in 
the  seventh  century,  and  in  Latin. 

Nothing  is  more  natural  than  the  conflict  of  these  hypo- 
theses ;  they  necessarily  arose  from  the  Salic  law  itself.  A 
peculiar  circumstance  tended  to  provoke  them. 

In  the  manuscripts  which  remain  to  us,  there  are  two  texts 
of  this  law  :  the  one  unmixedly  Latin  ;  the  other  Latin  also, 
but  mixed  with  a  great  number  of  German  words,  of  glosses, 
and  of  expositions,  in  the  ancient  Frankish  tongue,  interca- 
lated in  the  course  of  the  articles.  It  contains  two  hundred 
and  fifty-three  intercalations  of  this  kind.  The  second  text 
was  published  at  Basil,  in  1557,  by  the  jurisconsult,  John 
Herold,  from  a  manuscript  in  the  Abbey  of  Fulda.  The 
purely  Latin  text  was  published,  for  the  first  time,  in  Paris, 
without  date,  or  the  name  of  the  editor ;  and,  for  the  second 
time,  by  John  Dutillet,  also  in  Paris,  in  1573.  Both  texts 
have  since  gone  through  many  editions. 

Of  these  two  texts  there  exist  eighteen  manuscripts1 — 
namely,  fifteen  of  the  unmixed  Latin  text,  and  three  of  that 
in  which  Germanic  words  appear.  Of  these  manuscripts, 
fifteen  have  been  found  upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  in 
France,  and  only  three  in  Germany.  You  might  be  inclined 
to  suppose  that  the  three  manuscripts  found  in  Germany,  are 
those  which  contain  the  German  glosses :  but  such  is  not  the 


1  If  I  do  not  err,  M.  Pertz  has  recently  discovered  two  others  ;  but 
nothing  has  as  yet  been  published  concerning  them. 


186  HISTORY    OF 

case  ;  of  the  three  manuscripts  with  the  comments,  two  only 
come  from  Germany,  the  third  was  found  in  Paris ;  of  the  fif- 
teen others,  fourteen  were  found  in  France,  and  one  in  Ger- 
many. 

The  fifteen  manuscripts  of  the  unmixedly  Latin  texts  are 
pretty  nearly  alike.  There  are,  indeed,  some  various  readings 
IB  the  prefaces,  the  epilogues,  and  in  the  arrangement  or  the 
compilation  of  the  articles,  but  these  are  of  little  importance. 
The  three  manuscripts  containing  the  German  comments  differ 
much  more  widely  ;  they  differ  in  the  number  of  titles  and 
articles,  in  their  arrangement,  even  in  their  contents,  and  still 
more  in  their  style.  Of  these  manuscripts,  two  are  written 
in  the  most  barbarous  Latin. 

Here,  then,  are  two  texts  of  the  Salic  law  which  support 
the  two  solutions  of  the  problem ;  the  one  appears  rather  of  a 
Roman  origin,  the  other  more  entirely  Germanic.  Thus  the 
question  assumes  this  form :  of  the  two  texts,  which  is  the 
most  ancient  ? — to  which  of  them  should  priority  be  attri- 
buted ? 

The  common  opinion,  especially  in  Germany,  attributes 
the  highest  antiquity  to  the  text  which  bears  the  German 
gloss.  There  are,  indeed,  some  arguments  which  seem,  at 
first  sight,  to  support  this  view.  The  three  manuscripts  of 
this  text  bear  the  words,  Lex  Salica  antiqua,  antiquissima, 
vetustior  ;  whilst,  in  those  of  the  unmixedly  Latin  text,  we 
commonly  read  :  hex  Salica  recentior,  emendata,  reformata. 
If  we  referred  the  question  to  these  epigraphs,  it  would  be 
resolved. 

Another  circumstance  seems  to  lead  us  to  the  same  solution. 
Several  manuscripts  contain  a  kind  of  preface,  in  which  the 
history  of  the  Salic  law  is  related.  The  following  is  the 
most  comprehensive.  You  will  immediately  see  what  conse- 
quences are  to  be  deduced  from  it  concerning  the  antiquity  of 
the  law : 

"  The  nation  of  the  Franks,  illustrious,  founded  by  God, 
mighty  in  arms,  firm  in  treaties  of  peace,  profound  in  council, 
noble  and  healthy  iu  body,  of  a  singular  fairness  and  beauty, 
bold,  active,  and  fierce  in  fight ;  lately  converted  to  the 
catholic  faith,  free  from  heresy ;  while  it  was  yet  under  a 
barbarous  belief  seeking  the  key  of  knowledge  by  the  inspi- 
ration of  God,  desiring  justice,  and  observing  piety  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  of  its  qualities  :  the  Salic  law  was  dictated 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  187 

by  the  chiefs  of  their  nation,  who,  at  that  time,  commanded 
therein. 

"Four  men  were  chosen  of  many — namely,  Wisogast, 
Bodogast,  Salogast,  and  Windogast,1  in  the  places  called  Sala- 
gheve,  Bodogheve,  Windogheve.  These  men  met  in  three 
mdls*  discussed  with  care  all  judicial  piocesses,  treated  of 
each  in  particular,  and  decreed  their  judgment  in  the  follow- 
ing manner.  Afterwards,  when,  with  the  help  of  God, 
Choldwig  the  long-haired,  the  beautiful,  the  illustrious  king 
of  the  Franks,  had  received  the  first  catholic,  baptism,  every- 
thing in  this  covenant  that  was  considered  unfitting  was 
amended  with  perspicuity  by  the  illustrious  kings,  Choldwig, 
Childeberg,  and  Chlotaire ;  and  in  this  manner  was  the  follow- 
ing decree  produced : 

" '  Honor  to  Christ  who  loves  the  Franks  !  May  he  pre- 
serve their  kingdom,  and  fill  their  chiefs  with  the  light  of  his 
grace  !  May  he  protect  their  army  ;  may  he  give  them  signs 
which  shall  bear  witness  to  their  faith,  awarding  unto  them 
joys  of  peace  and  an  entire  felicity !  May  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  direct  in  the  ways  of  piety  those  who  govern !  For 
this  is  the  nation  which,  small  in  number  but  valorous  and 
powerful,  shook  from  its  head  the  hard  yoke  of  the  Romans, 
and  which,  after  having  recognized  the  sacredness  of  baptism, 
sumptuously  adorned  with  gold  and  precious  stones  the  bodies 
of  the  holy  martyrs  whom  the  Romans  had  burnt  with  fire, 
massacred,  mutilated  with  the  sword,  or  delivered  to  be  torn 
to  pieces  by  wild  beasts. 

"  Concerning  the  inventors  of  laws  and  their  order. — Moses 
was  the  first  of  all  those  who  expounded,  in  sacred  letters, 
the  divine  laws  to  the  Hebrew  nation.  King  Phoroneus  was 
the  first  to  establish  laws  and  judgments  among  the  Greeks  ; 
Mercury  Trismegistus  gave  the  first  laws  to  the  Egyptians  ; 
Solon  gave  the  first  laws  to  the  Athenians  ;  Lycurgus  esta- 
blished the  first  laws  among  the  Lacedemonians,  by  the  au- 
thority of  Apollo  ;  Numa  Pompilius,  who  succeeded  to  Romu- 
lus, gave  the  first  laws  to  the  Romans.  Afterwards,  because 
the  factious  people  would  not  tolerate  its  magistrates,  it  created 
decemvirs  to  write  laws,  and  these  placed  upon  twelve  tables 


1  Gast  means  guest ;  gheoe  or  gati,  canton,  district ;  salogast  is  the 
guest  inhabiting  the  canton  of  Sale  ;  bodogast,  the  guest  of  the  cantos 
of  Bode,  &c. 

•  Malfum,  an  assembly  of  free  men. 


188  HISTORY    OF 

he  laws  of  Solon,  translated  into  Latin.  They  were :  Appiiu 
Claudius  Sabinus,  T.  L.  Genutius,  P.  Sestius  Vaticanus,  T. 
eturius  Cicurinus,  C.  Julius  Tullius,  A.  Manilius,  P.  Sul- 
oicius  Camerinus,  Sp.  Postumius  Albus,  P.  Horatius  Pul villus, 
r.  Romilius  Vaticanus.  These  decemvirs  were  nominated 
.o  write  the  laws.  The  consul  Pompey  was  the  first  to  desire 
that  the  laws  should  be  written  in  books  ;  but  he  did  not  pro- 
secute his  desire  from  the  dread  of  calumniators.  Csesar 
afterwards  began  this  work,  but  he  was  killed  before  he  com- 
pleted it.  Little  by  little  the  ancient  laws  fell  into  disuse 
through  age  and  neglect ;  but  although  they  were  no  longer 
used,  it  was  nevertheless  necessary  that  they  should  be  known. 
The  new  laws  began  to  count  from  Constantine  and  his  suc- 
cessors ;  they  were  mixed  and  without  order.  Afterwards, 
the  august  Theodosius  II.,  in  imitation  of  the  Codes  of  Gregory 
and  of  Hermogenes,  caused  the  constitutions  given  out  since 
Constantine  to  be  collected  and  arranged  under  the  name  of 
each  emperor ;  and  this  is  called,  after  himself,  the  Theodosian 
Code.  Afterwards,  each  nation  selected,  according  to  its 
customs,  the  laws  which  were  suited  to  it ;  for  a  long  custom 
passes  for  a  law ;  law  is  a  written  constitution  ;  custom  is 
usage  founded  upon  antiquity,  or  unwritten  law  ;  for  the 
word  law  is  derived  from  the  word  legere  (lex  a  legendo), 
because  it  is  written ;  custom  is  a  long  habit  founded  solely 
upon  manners ;  habit  is  a  certain  right  which  is  established 
by  manners,  and  which  is  regarded  as  law ;  law  is  all  that 
which  has  already  been  established  by  reason,  which  is  agree- 
able to  good  discipline  and  profitable  to  salvation ;  but  we 
call  that  habit  which  is  in  common  use. 

"  Theodoric,  king  of  the  Franks,  when  he  was  at  Chalons, 
selected  the  wise  men  of  his  kingdom,  and  those  who  were 
learned  in  ancient  laws,  and  dictating  to  them  himself,  he 
commanded  them  to  write  the  laws  of  the  Franks,  of  the 
Allemanni,  of  the  Boii,  and  of  all  the  nations  which  were 
under  his  power,  according  to  the  customs  of  each.  He  added 
what  was  necessary  thereto,  and  took  away  what  was  im- 
proper, and  amended,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  Christians, 
that  which  was  according  to  the  ancient  pagan  customs.  And 
of  that  which  king  Theodoric  was  unable  to  change,  on 
account  of  the  great  antiquity  of  the  pagan  customs,  king 
Childebert  began  the  correction,  which  was  finished  by  king 
Chlotaire.  The  glorious  king  Dagobert  renewed  all  thesa 
.hings  by  means  of  the  illustrious  men,  Claudius,  Shadoin, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  189 

Dcmagne,  and  Agilof ;  he  caused  to  be  transcribed,  with 
ameliorations,  the  ancient  laws,  and  gave  them  written  to 
each  nation.  Laws  are  made  in  order  that  human  wickedness 
should  be  restrained  by  fear,  that  innocence  should  be 'shielded 
from  all  danger  in  the  midst  of  the  wicked,  that  the  wicked 
should  dread  punishment,  and  that  they  should  curb  their  lust 
for  mischief. 

"  This  has  been  decreed  by  the  king,  ine  chiefs,  and  all  the 
Christian  people  who  dwell  in  the  country  of  the  Merovin- 
gians. 

$  $  *  %  $  *  + 

"  In  the  name  of  Christ : — 

"  Here  commences  the  compact  of  the  Salic  law. 

"  Those  who  have  written  the  Salic  law  are  Wisogast, 
Aregast,  Salogast,  Windogast,  in  Bodham,  Saleham,  and 
Widham " 

From  this  preface,  from  the  words  antiqua,  vetustior,  in- 
serted in  a  text,  and  from  some  other  analogous  indications,  it 
has  been  concluded — 1st.  That  the  Salic  law  was  written 
before  the  invasion,  beyond  the  Rhine,  and  in  the  language  of 
the  Franks.  2d.  That  the  manuscript  mixed  with  German 
words  was  the  most  ancient,  and  that  it  contained  the  remains 
of  the  primitive  text. 

The  most  learned  work  in  which  this  controversy  has  been 
recapitulated  is  that  of  M.  Wiarda,  entitled,  "  Histoire  et 
explication  de  la  loi  Salique,"  and  published  at  Bremen  in 
1808.  I  will  not  carry  you  through  the  labyrinth  of  discus- 
sions which  he  engages  in  upon  the  different  questions  which 
his  work  embraces  ;  but  merely  point  out  his  principal  results. 
They  are  generally  supported  by  sufficient  proofs,  and  the 
criticism  upon  them  is  very  careful. 

According  to  M.  Wiarda,  the  text  mixed  with  German 
words — in  the  copies,  at  least,  which  we  possess  of  it — is  not 
more  ancient  than  the  other;  one  might  be  tempted,  indeed, 
to  believe  it  more  modern.  Two  articles  especially  seem  to 
indicate  that  this  is  the  case  : — 1st.  Title  61,  entitled  De  Chre- 
necruda,1  which  treats  of  the  cession  of  property,  is  found  alike 
in  both  texts  ;  but  the  purely  Latin  text  gives  it  as  a  rule 
in  vigor,  while  the  text  with  the  German  gloss  adds  :   "  In 


That  is  to  say,  concerning  green  herbage,  from  ancient  German 
words  which  answer  tc  the  modern  words  griin,  green,  and  kraut, 
herb  or  plant. 

23 


190  HISTORY    OP 

present  times  this  no  longer  applies."  2d.  Under  title  58^ 
§  1st.,  the  text  with  the  gloss  runs  thus :  "  According  to  the 
ancient,  law,  whoever  disinterred  or  stripped  a  dead  and 
buried  body,  was  banished,"  &c.  This  law,  described  here 
as  ancient,  exists  in  the  unmixedly  Latin  text  without  any 
observation. 

It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  these  two  passages  of  the  text 
with  the  gloss  seem  to  indicate  posterior  date. 

From  this  comparison  of  the  texts,  M.  Wiarda  passes  to  an 
examination  of  the  preface,  and  easily  discovers  improbabilities 
and  contradictions  therein.  Many  manuscripts  have  no  preface ; 
in  those  which  have,  they  vary  much.  Even  that  which  1 
have  just  read  to  you  is  composed  of  incoherent  parts  ;  the 
second  part,  from  the  words,  the  inventors  of  laws,  &c.  &c, 
is  copied  textually  in  the  treatise  Of  Etymologies  and  Origins, 
by  Isidore  of  Seville,  a  writer  of  the  seventh  century  ;  the 
third  from  these  words,  Theodoric,  king  of  the  Franks,  is  also 
found  at  the  head  of  a  manuscript  of  the  law  of  the  Bavarians. 
The  names  of  the  first  compilers  of  the  law  of  the  Salian 
Franks  are  not  the  same  in  the  preface  and  in  the  body  of  the 
law  itself.  From  these,  and  many  other  circumstances,  M. 
Wiarda  concludes  that  the  prefaces  are  merely  additions 
written  at  the  head  of  the  text,  by  the  copyists,  who  collected, 
each  in  his  own  fashion,  the  popular  reports,  and  that  there- 
fore no  authority  is  to  be  attributed  to  them. 

Moreover,  none  of  the  ancient  documents,  none  of  the  first 
chroniclers  who  have  minutely  related  the  history  of  the 
Franks,  neither  Gregory  of  Tours,  nor  Fredegaire,  for  instance, 
speak  of  any  compilation  of  their  laws.  We  must  come 
down  to  the  eighth  century  in  order  to  find  a  passage  in  which 
such  compilation  is  mentioned,  and  then  it  is  in  one  of  the 
most  confused  and  most  fabulous  chronicles  of  the  time,  the 
Gesta  Francorum,  that  we  read  : 

"  After  a  battle  with  the  emperor  Valentinian,  in  which 
their  chief,  Priam,  fell,  .the  Franks  left  Sicambria,  and  came 
to  establish  themselves  in  the  regions  of  Germany,  at  the 

extremity  of  the  river  Rhine There  they  elected  king 

Pharamond,  son  of  Marcomir,  and,  elevating  him  upon  their 
shields,  they  proclaimed  him  the  long-haired  king  ;  and  then 
they  began  to  adopt  a  law  which  their  ancient  gentile  council* 
lors,  Wisogast,  Windogast,  Aregast,  and  Salogast,  wrote  in  the 
German  villages  of  Bodecheim,  Salecheim,  and  Windecheim.'' 
'Gesta  Franc.,  c.  3.) 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  19] 

It  is  upon  this  paragraph  that  all  the  prefaces,  inscriptions, 
or  narratives,  placed  at  the  head  of  manuscripts,  are  founded  ; 
they  have  no  other  warrant,  and  merit  no  more  faith. 

After  having  thus  discarded  the  indirect  documents  ad 
vanced  in  support  of  the  high  antiquity  and  of  the  purely 
German  origin  of  this  law,  M.  Wiarda  comes  directly  to  the 
question,  and  conceives,  1st.  That  the  Salic  law  was  written 
for  the  first  time  upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine,  in  Belgium, 
upon  the  territory  situated  between  the  forest  of  Ardennes, 
the  Meus,  the  Lys,  and  the  Scheldt ;  a  country  which,  for  n 
long  time,  was  occupied  by  the  Salian  Franks,  whom  espe- 
cially this  law  governed,  and  from  whom  it  received  its  name  ; 
2d.  that,  in  none  of  the  texts  actually  existing  does  this  law 
appear  to  go  further  back  than  the  seventh  century  ;  3d. 
that  it  has  never  been  written  except  in  Latin.  This  is 
acknowledged  with  regard  to  all  other  barbarous  laws,  the 
Ripuarian,  Bavarian,  and  Allemanic  laws;  and  nothing  indi- 
cates that  the  Salic  law  was  an  exception.  Moreover,  the 
Germanic  dialects  were  not  written  before  the  reign  of  Charle- 
magne ;  and  Otfried  of  Weissemburg,  the  translator  of  the 
Gospel,  calls  the  Frankish  tongue,  even  in  the  ninth  century, 
linguam  indisciplinabilem. 

Such  are  the  general  results  of  the  learned  labor  of  M. 
Wiarda ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  I  believe  that  they  are  legiti- 
mate. He  even  places  too  little  importance  upon  a  kind  of 
proof,  which  is,  in  my  opinion,  more  forcible  than  the  greater 
portion  of  those  which  he  has  so  ingeniously  examined — I 
mean,  the  contents  themselves  of  the  Salic  law,  and  the  facts 
which  are  clearly  deducible  therefrom.  It  seems  evident  to 
me,  from  the  dispositions,  the  ideas,  and  the  tone  of  their 
law,  that  it  belongs  to  a  period  at  which  the  Franks  had  for 
a  long  time  existed  amidst  a  Roman  population.  It  constantly 
makes  mention  of  the  Romans ;  and  not  as  of  inhabitants 
scattered  thinly  here  and  there,  over  the  territory,  but  as  of  a 
population  numerous,  industrious,  agricultural,  and  already 
reduced,  in  great  part,  at  least,  to  the  condition  of  laborers. 
We  also  perceive  from  this  law,  that  Christianity  was  not  of 
recent  date  among  the  Franks,  but  that  it  already  held  an  im- 
portant place  in  society  and  men's  minds.  Churches,  bishops, 
deacons,  clerks,  are  often  treated  of;  and  we  may  recognize, 
in  more  than  one  article,  the  influence  of  religion  upon  moral 
notions,  and  the  change  which  it  had  already  wrought  upon 


192  HISTORY   OF 

barbarous  manners.  In  short,  the  intrinsic  proof,  derivable 
from  the  law  itself,  appears  to  me  conclusive  in  favor  of  the 
hypothesis  maintained  by  M.  Wiarda. 

I  believe,  however,  that  the  traditions  which,  through  so 
many  contradictions  and  fables,  appear  in  the  prefaces  and 
epilogues  annexed  to  the  law,  have  more  importance,  and 
merit  more  consideration,  than  he  gives  them.  They  indi- 
cate that,  from  the  eighth  century,  it  was  a  general  belief,  a 
popular  tradition,  that  the  customs  of  the  Salian  Franks  were 
anciently  collected — they  were  Christians  before,  in  a  terri- 
tory more  German  than  that  which  they  now  occupied.  How- 
ever  little  their  authenticity,  and  however  defective  the  docu- 
ments where  these  traditions  are  preserved  may  be,  they  at 
least  prove  that  the  traditions  existed.  We  are  not  obliged 
to  believe  that  the  Salic  law,  such  as  we  have  it,  is  of  a  very 
remote  date,  nor  that  it  was  compiled  as  recounted,  nor  even 
that  it  was  ever  written  in  the  German  language ;  but  that  it 
was  connected  with  customs  collected  and  transmitted  from 
generation  to  generation,  when  the  Franks  lived  about  the 
mouth  of  the  Rhine,  and  modified,  extended,  explained,  re- 
duced into  law,  at  various  times,  from  that  epoch  down  to  the 
end  of  the  eighth  century — this,  I  think,  is  the  reasonable 
result  to  which  this  discussion  should  lead. 

Allow  me,  before  quitting  the  work  of  M.  Wiarda,  to  call 
your  attention  to  two  ideas  which  are  developed  there,  and 
which  contain,  in  my  opinion,  a  large  portion  of  truth.  The 
Salic  law,  according  to  him,  is,  properly  speaking,  no  law  at 
all,  no  code ;  it  was  not  compiled  and  published  by  a  legal, 
official  authority,  whether  that  of  a  king,  or  of  an  assembly  of 
the  people  or  great  men.  He  has  been  disposed  to  see  in  it  a 
mere  enumeration  of  customs  and  judicial  decisions — a  collec- 
tion made  by  some  learned  man,  some  barbarian  priest — a  col- 
lection analogous  to  the  Mirror  of  the  Saxons,  to  the  Mirror  of 
the  Swabians,  and  many  other  ancient  monuments  of  the  Ger- 
manic legislation,  which  have  evidently  only  this  character. 
M.  Wiarda  founds  the  conjecture  upon  the  example  of  many 
other  nations  at  the  same  degree  of  civilization,  and  upon  a 
number  of  ingenious  arguments.  One  has  escaped  him — 
perhaps  the  most  conclusive ;  this  is  a  text  of  the  Salic  law 
itself.     There  we  read  : — 

"  If  any  one  strips  a  dead  person  before  he  is  placed  in  the 
earth,  let  him  be  condemned  to  pay  1800  deniers,  which  make 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  193 

45  sous ;  and,  according  to  another  decision  (in  alia  senlentia), 
2500  deniers,  which  make  02  sous  and  a-half."1 

This  is  evidently  not  a  legislative  text,  for  it  contains  two 
different  penalties  for  the  same  crime ;  and  the  words  accord- 
ing to  another  decision,  are  exactly  those  which  would  be  found 
in  the  language  of  jurisprudence,  in  a  collection  of  decrees. 

M.  Wiarda  thinks,  moreover,  and  this  will  confirm  the  pre- 
ceding opinion,  that  the  Salic  law  does  not  contain  all  the 
legislation,  all  the  law  of  the  Salian  Franks.  We  find,  in 
fact,  in  the  monuments  of  the  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh 
centuries,  a  certain  number  of  cases  which  are  called  rules 
secundum  legem  salicam,  and  of  which  the  text  of  that  law 
makes  no  mention.  Certain  forms  of  marriage,  certain  rules 
of  affiancing,  are  expressly  called  secundum  legem  salicam, 
which  do  not  figure  there  at  all.  From  whence  one  might 
conclude  that  a  large  number  of  the  customs  of  the  Salian 
Franks  had  never  been  written,  and  form  no  part  of  the  text 
which  we  possess. 

Here  are  a  great  many  details,  and  I  have  suppressed  many 
more ;  I  have  given  only  the  result  of  the  controversies  of 
which  the  history  of  the  Salic  law  alone  has  been  the  object. 
It  is  from  not  having  given  proper  attention  to  it,  from  not 
having  scrutinized  with  care  the  origins  and  vicissitudes  of 
this  law,  that  such  strange  mistakes  have  been  fallen  into  as 
to  its  character.  Let  us  now  enter  into  the  examination  of 
the  legislation  itself,  and  endeavor  to  bring  to  bear  upon  it 
a  rather  close  criticism,  for  here  also  people  have  strangely 
fallen  into  vagueness  and  declamation. 

The  two  texts  are  of  unequal  extent :  the  text,  mixed  with 
Germanic  words,  contains  80  titles  and  420  articles  or  para- 
graphs ;  the  purely  Latin  text  has  but  70,  71,  72  titles,  accord- 
ing to  the  different  manuscripts,  and  406,  407,  or  408  articles. 
One  manuscript,  that  of  Wolfenbuttel,  a  very  confused  one 
in  its  arrangements,  contains  even  a  greater  number. 

At  the  first  aspect  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with  the 
apparent  utter  chaos  of  the  law.  It  treats  of  all  things — of 
political  law,  of  civil  law,  of  criminal  law,  of  civil  procedure, 
of  criminal  procedure,  of  rural  jurisdiction,  all  mixed  up  to- 
gether without  any  distinction  or  classification.  If  we  were 
to  write  out,  each  on  a  separate  piece  of  paper,  the  various 


1  Pact.  Leg.  Sal.,  ed.  Herold,  tit  xvii.  de  Expoliationibus,  b  1 


194  HISTORY   OF 

articles  of  our  various  codes,  and  after  having  thrown  them 
together  into  an  urn,  draw  them  out  as  each  .presented  itself, 
the  order,  or  rather  disorder,  in  which  chance  would  throw 
them,  would  differ  very  little  from  their  arrangement  in  the 
Salic  law. 

When  we  examine  this  law  more  closely,  we  perceive  that 
it  is  essentially  a  penal  regulation,  that  in  it  the  criminal  law 
occupies  the  first,  and,  indeed,  almost  the  whole  place.  The 
political  law  makes  its  appearance  quite  incidentally  and  in- 
directly, and  in  reference  only  to  institutions,  to  facts  which 
are  regarded  as  established,  and  with  the  foundation  or  even 
declaration  of  which  the  law  looks  upon  itself  as  having  no- 
thing to  do  ;  as  to  the  civil  law,  it  contains  some  enactments 
of  a  more  precise  and  distinct  nature,  to  the  preparation  of 
which  much  attention  seems  to  have  been  paid.  The  same  is 
the  case  with  regard  to  civil  procedure.  As  to  criminal  pro- 
cedure, the  Salic  law  appears  to  consider  almost  every  point 
established  and  understood  ;  all  that  it  does  under  this  head, 
is  to  supply  a  few  obvious  deficiencies,  and  to  lay  down  in 
certain  cases  the  duties  of  judges,  of  witnesses,  &c.  Pains 
and  penalties  are  here  entirely  dominant ;  the  great  aim  is  to 
repress  crime,  and  to  inflict  punishment.  It  is  a  penal  code. 
It  contains  three  hundred  and  forty -three  penal  articles,  and 
but  sixty-five  upon  all  other  subjects. 

Such,  indeed,  is  the  character  of  all  legislations  in  their 
infancy  ;  it  is  by  penal  laws  that  nations  make  the  first  visible 
steps — the  first  written  steps,  if  I  may  use  the  expression — 
out  of  barbarism.  They  have  no  idea  of  writing  the  political 
law ;  the  powers  which  govern  them,  and  the  forms  in  which 
those  powers  are  exercised,  are  clear,  certain,  understood 
facts :  it  is  not  in  this  period  of  their  existence  that  nations 
discuss  constitutions.  The  civil  law  exists  in  like  manner  as 
a  fact ;  the  mutual  relations  between  men,  their  covenants 
and  agreements,  are  left  to  the  rules  of  natural  equity,  are 
conducted  according  to  certain  fixed  principles,  certain  gene- 
rally admitted  forms.  The  legal  settlement  of  this  portion  of 
law  does  not  take  place  until  after  a  much  fuller  development 
of  the  social  state.  Whether  under  a  religious  form,  or  under 
one  purely  secular,  the  penal  law  is  the  first  that  makes  its 
appearance  in  the  legislative  career  of  nations ;  their  first 
effort  towards  the  perfecting  of  civil  life  consists  in  raising 
barriers  against,  in  proclaiming,  beforehand,  punishments  for 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  195 

sxcesses  of  individual  liberty.     The  Salic  law  belongs  to  this 
period  of  the  history  of  our  society. 

In  order  to  acquire  a  true  knowledge  of  this  law,  apart  from 
the  vague  assertions  and  discussions  of  which  it  has  been  made 
the  object,  let  us  endeavor  to  consider  it — first,  in  the  enume 
ration  and  definition  of  crimes ;  secondly,  in  its  application  of 
punishments ;  thirdly,  in  its  criminal  procedure.  These  are 
the  three  essential  elements  of  all  penal  legislation. 

I.  The  crimes  taken  cognisance  of  in  the  Salic  law  are 
almost  all  of  them  classed  under  two  heads :  robbery,  and 
violence  against  the  "person.  Of  three  hundred  and  forty- 
three  articles  in  the  penal  law,  one  hundred  and  fifty  have 
reference  to  cases  of  robbery,  and  of  these  seventy-four  relate 
to  and  assign  punishments  for  the  stealing  of  animals — twenty, 
namely,  to  pig  stealing ;  sixteen  to  horse  stealing ;  thirteen 
to  the  stealing  of  bulls,  cows,  and  oxen ;  seven  to  sheep  and 
goat  stealing ;  four  to  dog  stealing ;  seven  to  bird  stealing ; 
and  seven  to  bee  stealing.  Under  these  heads  the  laws  enter 
into  the  most  minute  details;  the  crime  and  the  punishment 
vary  according  to  the  age  and  sex  of  the  thief,  the  number  of 
animals  stolen,  the  place  and  time  of  the  robbery,  &c. 

Cases  of  violence  against  the  person  furnish  matter  for  113 
articles,  of  which  30  relate  to  mutilation  in  every  possible  va- 
riety, 24  to  violence  against  women,  &c. 

I  need  proceed  no  further  in  this  enumeration  of  crimes. 
They  exhibit  to  us  in  a  clear  light  two  marked  characteristics 
of  the  law :  1st,  it  belongs  to  a  society  in  a  very  low  and  in- 
artificial state.  Open  the  criminal  codes  of  another  period, 
you  find  a  far  greater  variety  in  the  classes  of  crimes,  while 
in  each  class  the  specification  of  cases  is  infinitely  less  detailed ; 
we  recognize  at  once  more  various  facts  and  more  general 
ideas.  The  crimes  set  forth  here  are,  for  the  most  part,  such 
only  as  may  be  anticipated  in  a  condition  of  things  under 
which  mankind  becomes  more  united,  however  simple  their 
relations  may  be,  however  monotonous  their  life.  2d,  It  is 
also  evidently  a  very  coarse  and  brutal  society,  in  which  the 
confusion  of  individual  wills  and  forces  is  carried  to  an  extre- 
mity, where  there  is  no  kind  of  public  power  to  prevent  their 
excesses,  where  the  safety  of  persons  and  properties  is  every 
instant  in  peril.  This  absence  of  all  generalization,  of  all 
attempt  to  give  a  simple  and  common  character  to  crimes, 
attests  at  once  the  want  of  intellectual  development,  and  the 
precipitation  of  the  legislator.     It  combines  rothing;    it  is 


196  HISTORY   OP 

under  the  influence  of  a  pressing  necessity;  it  takes,  so  t« 
speak,  every  action,  every  case  of  robbery,  of  violence  in  the 
very  fact,  in  order  to  immediately  inflict  a  penalty  upon  them. 
Rude  itself,  it  had  to  do  with  rude  men,  and  had  no  idea  but 
of  adding  a  new  article  of  law  whenever  a  new  crime  was 
committed,  however  trifling  its  difference  from  those  it  had 
already  contemplated. 

II.  From  the  crimes  let  us  pass  to  the  punishments,  and 
let  us  see  what  was  the  character  of  the  Salic  law  in  this  re- 
spect. 

At  the  first  glance,  we  shall  be  struck  with  its  mildness. 
This  legislation,  which  as  to  crimes  reveals  such  violent  and 
brutal  manners,  contains  no  cruel  punishments,  and  not  only 
is  it  not  cruel,  but  it  seems  to  bear  a  singular  respect  towards 
the  person  and  liberty  of  men  :  of  free  men,  that  is  to  say;  for 
whenever  slaves  or  even  laborers  are  in  question,  cruelty  re- 
appears— the  law  abounds  in  tortures  and  in  corporeal  punish- 
ments for  them ;  but  for  free  men,  Franks  and  even  Romans, 
it  is  extremely  moderate.  There  are  but  few  cases  of  the 
punishment  of  death,  and  from  this  criminals  could  always 
redeem  themselves ;  no  corporeal  punishments,  no  imprison- 
ments. The  only  punishment  put  forth  in  writing  in  the 
Salic  law,  is  composition,  wehrgeld,  widrigeld1 — that  is,  a  cer- 
tain sum  which  the  guilty  person  was  obliged  to  pay  to  the 
offended  person,  or  to  his  family.  To  the  ivehrgeld  is  added, 
in  a  great  number  of  cases,  what  the  German  laws  call  the 
fred*  a  sum  paid  to  the  king  or  to  the  magistrate,  in  repara- 
tion for  the  violation  of  public  peace.  The  penal  system  of 
the  law  reduces  itself  to  this. 

Composition  is  the  first  step  of  criminal  legislation  out  of 
'  W>  .system  of  personal  vengeance.  The  right  concealed  under 
Knis  penalty,  the  right  which  exists  at  the  foundation  of  the 
Salic  law,  and  all  barbaric  laws,  is  the  right  of  each  man  to 
do  justice  to  himself,  to  revenge  himself  by  force ;  war  be- 
tween the  offender  and  the  offended.  Composition  is  an  attempt 
to  substitute  a  legal  system  for  this  war ;  it  is  the  right  of  the 
offender,  by  paying  a  certain  sum,  to  protect  himself  from  the 
vengeance  of  the  offended ;  it  obliges  the  offended  party  to 
renounce  the  employment  of  force. 


»  Prohibition  money  (from  wheren,  wharen,  bewahren),  guarantee. 
Bee  my  Essais  sur  VHistoire  de  France,  p.  197. 
9  From  frieden,  peace. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  19? 

Be  careful,  however,  not  to  suppose  that  it  had  this  effec 
from  its  origin ;  the  offended  party  for  a  long  time  preserved 
the  privilege  of  choosing  between  composition  and  Avar,  of  re- 
fusing the  wehrgeld,  and  having  recourse  to  vengeance.  The 
chronicles  and  documents  of  all  kinds  leave  no  doubt  on  the 
subject.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  at  the  eighth  century 
composition  was  obligatory,  and  the  refusal  to  be  contented 
therewith  was  regarded  as  a  violence,  not  as  a  right ;  but 
assuredly,  it  had  not  always  been  so,  and  composition  was  at 
first  only  a  rather  inefficacious  attempt  to  put  an  end  to  the 
disorderly  contest  of  individual  force — a  kind  of  legal  offer 
from  the  offender  to  the  offended. 

In  Germany,  and  especially  in  later  times,  a  far  higher  idea 
has  been  attached  to  it.  Men  of  learning  and  of  rare  minds 
have  been  struck,  not  only  with  the  respect  for  the  power  and 
liberty  of  man  which  appears  in  this  kind  of  penalty,  but  with 
many  other  characteristics  which  they  think  are  to  be  recog- 
nized in  it.  I  shall  arrest  your  attention  but  upon  one :  what, 
from  the  time  that  we  consider  things  under  an  elevated  and 
moral  point  of  view,  what  is  the  radical  vice  of  modern  penal 
legislation  ?  They  strike,  they  punish,  without  troubling 
themselves  to  know  whether  the  guilty  party  accepts  the  pe- 
nalty or  not,  whether  he  acknowledges  his  wrong,  whether 
his  will  does  or  does  not  concur  with  the  will  of  the  law;  they 
act  only  by  constraint,  justice  cares  not  to  appear  to  him  she 
condemns,  under  other  features  than  those  of  force. 

Composition  has,  so  to  speak,  an  entirely  different  penal 
physiognomy;  it  supposes,  it  involves  the  avowal  of  wrong  by 
the  offender ;  it  is,  in  its  way,  an  act  of  liberty;  he  may  refuse 
it,  and  run  the  risk  of  the  vengeance  of  the  offended  ;  when 
he  submits  to  it,  he  acknowledges  himself  guilty,  and  offers 
reparation  for  the  crime.  The  offended  party,  on  his  side, 
in  accepting  the  composition,  reconciles  himself  with  the 
offender ;  he  solemnly  promises  to  forget,  to  abandon  ven- 
geance :  so  that  composition  as  a  penalty  has  characteristics 
much  more  moral  than  the  punishments  of  more  learned  legis- 
lations ;  it  gives  evidence  of  a  profound  feeling  of  morality 
and  liberty. 

I  here  resume,  in  bringing  them  to  more  precise  terms,  the 
ideas  of  some  modern  German  writers ;  among  others,  of  a 
young  man  lately  dead,  to  the  great  sorrow  of  science,  M. 
Rogge,  who  has  set  them  forth  in  an  Essay  upon  the  Judicial 
System  of  the  Germans,  published  at  Halle,  in  1820.     Among 


198  HISTORY    OF 

many  ingenious  views,  and  some  probable  explanations  of  th« 
ancient  social  German  state,  there  is,  I  think,  in  this  system 
a  universal  mistake,  a  great  want  of  understanding  man  and 
barbaric  society. 

The  source  of  the  error,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  very  false 
idea  which  is  frequently  formed  of  the  liberty  which  seemed 
to  exist  in  the  earliest  age  of  nations.  There  can  be  no  doubt, 
but  that,  at  this  epoch,  the  liberty  of  individuals  was,  in  fact, 
very  great.  On  the  one  hand,  there  existed  between  men 
inequalities  but  little  varied,  and  little  powerful ;  those  which 
arose  from  wealth,  from  antiquity  of  race,  and  from  a  multi- 
tude of  complex  causes,  could  not  yet  have  been  developed, 
or  have  produced  anything  more  than  very  transitory  effects. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  was  no  longer  any,  or  scarcely  any, 
public  power  capable  of  holding  in  check  or  restraining  indi- 
vidual wills.  Men  were  firmly  governed  neither  by  other 
men  nor  by  society :  their  liberty  was  real ;  each  did  almost 
what  he  wished  according  to  his  power,  at  his  own  risk  and 
perils.  I  say  according  to  his  power ;  this  co-existence  of  in- 
dividual  liberties  was,  in  fact,  at  this  epoch  a  mere  contest  of 
powers ;  that  is,  warfare  between  individuals  and  families, 
war  incessant,  capricious,  violent,  and  barbarous  as  the  men 
who  carried  it  on. 

This  was  not  society:  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  found 
this  out ;  efforts  were  made  on  all  sides  to  escape  from  such  a 
state,  in  order  to  enter  upon  social  order.  The  evil  every- 
where sought  its  remedy.  Thus  it  was  ordered  by  this  mys- 
terious life,  this  secret  power  which  presides  over  the  destinies 
of  the  human  race. 

Two  remedies  appeared :  1st,  inequality  between  men  de- 
clared itself;  some  became  rich,  others  poor;  some  noble, 
some  obscure  ;  some  were  patrons,  others  clients  ;  some  mas- 
'ers,  others  slaves.  2dly.  Public  power  developed  itself;  a 
collective  force  arose,  which,  in  the  name  and  interest  of  so- 
ciety, proclaimed  and  executed  certain  laws.  Thus  origi- 
nated, on  the  one  side,  aristocracy,  and  on  the  other,  govern- 
ment— that  is  to  say,  two  methods  of  restraining  individual 
will,  two  means  of  subduing  many  men  to  a  will  different 
from  their  own. 

In  their  turn  the  remedies  became  evils ;  the  aristocracy 
tyrannized,  and  the  public  power  tyrannized ;  this  oppression 
led  to  a  disorder,  different  from  the  first,  but  profound  and 
intolerable.     Still,  in  the  heart  of  social  life,  by  the  sole  effect 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  19P 

of  its  continuance,  and  by  the  concurrence  of  numerous  influ- 
ences, individuals,  the  sole  real  beings,  developed,  enlightened, 
and  perfected  themselves ;  their  reason  was  less  contracted, 
their  will  less  irregular ;  they  began  to  perceive  that  they 
might  live  very  well  in  peace  without  so  great  an  amount  of 
inequality  or  public  power — that  is  to  say,  that  society  could 
subsist  very  well  without  so  dear  a  sacrifice  to  liberty.  At 
this  time,  just  as  there  had  been  an  effort  for  the  creation  of 
public  power,  and  for  inequality  between  men,  so  now  there 
commenced  an  effort  which  tended  to  the  attainment  of  a  con- 
trary end,  towards  the  reduction  of  the  aristocracy  and  the 
government ;  that  is  to  say,  society  tended  towards  a  state 
which,  externally  at  least,  and  judging  only  from  that  point 
of  view,  resembled  what  it  had  been  in  its  earliest  age,  at  the 
free  development  of  individual  wills,  in  that  situation  in  which 
each  man  did  what  he  pleased,  and  at  his  own  risk  and  peril. 
If  I  have  explained  myself  clearly,  you  now  know  where 
the  great  mistake  lies  of  the  admirers  of  the  barbarous  state : 
Struck,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the  slight  development,  whether 
of  public  power,  or  of  inequality,  and  on  the  other,  by  the 
extent  of  individual  liberty  which  they  met  with,  they  thence 
concluded  that  society,  despite  the  rudeness  of  its  forms,  was 
at  bottom,  in  its  normal  state,  under  the  empire  of  its  legi- 
timate principles,  such,  in  fact,  as,  after  its  noblest  pro- 
gressions, it  evidently  tends  again  to  become.  They  forgot 
but  one  thing ;  they  did  not  trouble  themselves  to  compare  men 
themselves,  in  these  two  terms  of  social  life  ;  they  forgot  that 
in  the  first,  coarse,  ignorant  and  violent,  governed  by  passion, 
and  always  ready  to  have  recourse  to  force,  they  were  inca- 
pable of  living  in  peace  according  to  reason  and  justice — that 
is  to  say,  of  living  in  society,  without  an  external  force  com- 
pelling them.  The  progress  of  society  consists,  above  all 
in  a  change  in  man  himself,  in  his  being  rendered  capable 
of  liberty — that  is  to  say,  of  governing  himself  according  to 
reason.  If  liberty  perished  at  the  beginning  of  the  social 
career,  it  was  because  man  was  incapable,  while  keeping  it, 
of  advancing  in  it ;  his  recovering  and  exercising  it  more  and 
more,  is  the  end  and  perfection  of  society,  but  it  was  by 
no  means  the  primitive  state,  the  condition  of  barbarous 
life.  In  the  barbarous  life,  liberty  was  nothing  but  the 
empire  of  force — that  is  to  say,  the  ruin,  or  rather  the  absence, 
of  society.  It  is  thence  that  so  many  men  of  talent  have 
leceived  themselves  concerning  the  barbaric  legislations,  and 


200  HISTORY   OF 

particularly  concerning  that  which  now  occupies  us.  They 
have  there  seen  the  principal  external  conditions  of  liberty, 
and  in  the  midst  of  these  conditions  they  have  placed  the 
sentiments,  ideas,  and  men  of  another  age.  The  theory  of 
composition,  I  have  just  stated,  has  no  other  source  :  its  inco- 
herence is  evident ;  and  instead  of  attributing  so  much  moral 
worth  to  this  kind  of  penalty,  it  should  be  regarded  only 
as  a  first  step  out  of  a  state  of  warfare  and  the  barbarous 
struggle  of  forces. 

III.  With  regard  to  criminal  procedure,  the  manner  of  the 
prosecution  and  judgment  of  offences,  the  Salic  law  is  very 
imperfect,  and  almost  silent ;  it  takes  the  judicial  institutions 
as  a  fact,  and  speaks  neither  of  tribunals,  judges,  nor  forms. 
One  meets  here  and  there,  as  to  summoning,  the  appear- 
ance in  court,  the  obligations  of  witnesses  and  judges,  the 
proof  by  hot  water,  &c,  a  few  special  dispositions :  but  in 
order  to  complete  them,  to  reconstruct  the  system  of  institu- 
tions and  manners  to  which  they  attach  themselves,  it  is 
necessary  to  carry  our  investigations  far  beyond  the  text,  and 
even  the  object  of  the  law.  Among  the  features  of  informa- 
tion which  they  contain  concerning  criminal  procedure,  I 
shall  arrest  your  attention  upon  two  points  only,  the  distinction 
of  fact  and  law,  and  the  compurgators  or  conjuratores. 

When  the  offender,  upon  the  citation  of  the  offended  party, 
appeared  in  the  mal,  or  assembly  of  free  men,  before  the 
judges,  no  matter  whom,  called  upon  to  decide,  counts,  rachim- 
burgs,  ahrimans,  &c,  the  question  submitted  to  them  was, 
what  the  law  commanded  as  to  the  alleged  fact :  people  did 
not  come  before  them  to  discuss  the  truth  or  falsehood  of 
the  fact ;  they  fulfilled  before  them  the  conditions  by  which 
this  first  point  should  be  decided ;  then,  according  to  the 
law  under  which  the  parties  lived,  they  were  required  to 
determine  the  rate  of  composition  and  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  penalty. 

As  to  the  reality  of  the  fact  itself,  it  was  established 
before  the  judges,  in  various  ways,  by  recourse  to  the  judg- 
ment of  God,  the  test  of  boiling  water,  single  combat,  &c, 
sometimes  by  the  depositions  of  witnesses,  and  most  fre- 
quently by  the  oath  of  the  conjuratores.  The  accused 
came  attended  by  a  certain  number  of  men,  his  relations, 
neighbors,  or  friends — six,  eight,  nine,  twelve,  fifty,  seventy- 
two,  in  certain  cases  even  a  hundred — who  came  to  make  oath 
that  he  had  not  done  what  was  imputed  to  him.     In  certain 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  201 

uases,  the  offended  party  also  haa  his  conjuratores.  There 
was  there  neither  interrogation,  nor  discussion  of  evidence,  nor, 
properly  speaking,  examination  of  the  fact ;  the  conjuratores 
simply  attested,  under  oath,  the  truth  of  the  assertion  of  the 
offended  party,  or  the  denial  of  the  offender.  This,  as  regards 
the  discovery  of  facts,  was  the  great  means  and  general  system 
of  the  barbarous  laws :  the  conjuratores  are  mentioned  less 
frequently  in  the  law  of  the  Salian  Franks  than  in  the  other 
barbarous  laws — in  that  of  the  Ripuarian  Franks,  for  instance ; 
yet  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  were  everywhere  equally  in 
use,  and  the  foundation  of  criminal  procedure. 

This  system,  like  that  of  composition,  has  been  an  object 
of  great  admiration  to  many  learned  men  ;  they  have  seen 
in  it  two  rare  merits;  the  power  of  the  ties  of  family, 
friendship,  or  neighborhood,  and  the  confidence  placed  by 
the  law  in  the  veracity  of  man :  "  The  Germans,"  says  Rogge, 
"  have  never  felt  the  necessity  for  a  regular  system  of  proofs. 
What  may  appear  strange  in  this  assertion  vanishes,  if  one  is 
thoroughly  impressed,  as  I  am,  with  a  full  faith  in  the  nobility 
of  character,  and,  above  all,  the  unbounded  veracity  of  our 
ancestors."1 

It  would  be  amusing  to  pass  from  this  sentence  to  Gregory 
of  Tours,  the  poem  of  the  Niebelungen,  and  all  the  poetical 
or  historical  monuments  of  the  ancient  German  manners : 
to  the  artifice,  deceit,  and  want  of  faith,  shown  there  at  every 
step,  sometimes  with  the  most  dexterous  refinement,  and 
sometimes  with  the  coarsest  audacity.  Can  you  believe  that 
the  Germans  were  any  different  when  before  their  tribunals 
than  in  common  life,  and  that  the  registers  of  their  law-suits, 
if  such  things  as  registers  then  existed,  should  give  the  lie  to 
their  history  ? 

I  do  not  attach  any  special  reproach  to  them  for  these 
vices;  they  are  the  vices  of  all  barbarous  nations,  in  all 
epochs,  and  under  every  zone ;  American  traditions  bear 
witness  to  it  as  well  as  those  of  Europe,  and  the  Iliad  as 
well  as  the  Niebelungen.  I  am  far,  too,  from  denying  that 
natural  morality  in  man,  which  abandons  him  in  no  age 
or  condition  of  society,  and  mixes  itself  with  the  most  brutal 
empire  of  ignorance  or  passion.  But  you  will  readily  com. 
prehend,  what,  in  the  midst  of  such  manners,  the  oaths  of  the 
conjuratores  must  very  frequently  have  been. 

1  Ueber  das  gerichtwesen  der  Germanen,  Preface,  p.  6. 


imm' 


SWS  TF  ACKERS  C"L'P«E 

SA    TA    iudidi    *«..—    _.... 


202  HISTORY   OF 

With  regard  to  the  spirit  of  tribe  or  family,  it  is  true,  it 
was  powerful  among  the  Germans ;  of  this,  among  many 
other  proofs,  the  conjuratores  give  one ;  but  it  had  not  all  the 
causes,  nor  did  it  produce  all  the  moral  consequences  which 
are  attributed  to  it :  a  man  accused  was  a  man  attacked ;  his 
neighbors  followed  and  surrounded  him  before  the  tribunal 
as  at  a  combat.  It  was  between  families  that  the  state  of 
warfare  subsisted  in  the  heart  of  barbarism  :  can  we  be  sur- 
prised that  they  should  group  and  put  themselves  in  move- 
ment  when,  under  such  a  form,  war  menaced  them  ? 

The  true  origin  of  the  conjuratores  was,  that  all  other 
means  of  establishing  facts  were  almost  impracticable.  Think 
what  such  an  inquiry  exacts,  what  a  degree  of  intellectual 
development  and  public  power  are  necessary  in  order  to  con- 
front the  various  kinds  of  proofs,  to  collect  and  contest 
the  evidence,  to  bring  the  witnesses  before  the  judges,  and 
to  obtain  truth  from  them  in  the  presence  of  the  accusers 
and  the  accused.  Nothing  of  this  was  possible  in  the  society 
governed  by  the  Salic  law  ;  and  it  was  neither  from  choice 
nor  moral  combination  that  they  then  had  recourse  to  the 
judgment  of  God  and  the  oath  of  relations,  but  because  they 
could  neither  do,  nor  apprehend  anything  better. 

Such  are  the  principal  points  of  this  law  which  seemed  to 
me  to  merit  your  attention.  I  say  nothing  of  the  fragments 
of  political  law,  civil  law,  or  civil  procedure,  which  are 
found  dispersed  through  it,  nor  even  of  that  famous  article 
which  orders  that  "  Salic  land  shall  not  fall  to  woman ;  and 
that  the  inheritance  shall  devolve  exclusively  on  the  males." 
No  person  is  now  ignorant  of  its  true  meaning.  Some  dis- 
positions, relative  to  the  forms  by  which  a  man  may  separate 
himself  from  his  family,1  the  getting  free  of  all  obligation  of 
relationship,  and  entering  upon  an  entire  independence,  are 
very  curious,  and  give  a  great  insight  into  social  life ;  but 
they  hold  an  unimportant  place  in  the  law,  and  do  not  de- 
termine its  end.  I  repeat,  that  it  is  essentially  a  penal  code, 
and  you  now  comprehend  it  under  this  view.  Considering  it 
in  its  whole,  it  is  impossible  not  to  recognize  in  it  a  complex, 
uncertain,  and  transitory  legislation.  One  feels  at  every 
moment  the  passage  from  one  country  into  another,  from  one 
social  state  into  another  social  state,  from  one  religion  into 
another  religion,  and  from  one  language  into  another  language; 

1  Tit.  liii.  §  1—3. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  203 

a.most  every  metamorphosis  which  can  take  place  in  the  life 
of  a  nation  is  stamped  upon  it.  Its  existence  also  was  pre- 
carious and  brief  j  from  the  tenth  century,  perhaps,  it  was 
replaced  by  a  multitude  of  local  customs,  to  -which,  of  a 
surety,  it  had  contributed  a  great  deal,  but  which  were 
likewise  drawn  from  other  sources,  in  the  Roman  law,  the 
canon  law,  and  the  necessities  of  circumstances  ;  and  when, 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  they  invoked  the  Salic  law,  in 
order  to  regulate  the  succession  to  the  crown,  it  had  certainly 
been  a  long  time  since  it  had  been  spoken  of,  except  in  re- 
membrance, and  upon  some  great  occasion. 

Three  other  barbarian  laws  ruled  over  the  nations  esta- 
blished in  Gaul,  those  of  the  Ripuarians,  the  Burgundians, 
and  the  Visigoths  j  these  will  form  the  subject  of  our  next 
leoture. 


204  history  or 


TENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture- — Is  the  transitory  character  of  the  Salic  law 
found  in  the  laws  of  the  Ripuarians,  the  Burgundians,  and  the  Visi- 
goths ? — 1st,  The  law  of  the  Ripuarians — The  Ripuarian  Franks- 
History  of  the  compilation  of  their  law — Its  contents — Difference 
between  it  and  the  Salic  law — 2d,  The  law  of  the  Burgundians— 
History  of  its  compilation — Its  contents — Its  distinctive  character — 
3d,  The  law  of  the  Visigoths — It  concerns  the  history  cf  Spain 
more  than  that  of  France — Its  general  character — Effect  of  Roman 
civilization  upon  the  barbarians. 

In  our  last  lecture,  the  character  which,  on  summing  up, 
appeared  to  us  dominant  and  fundamental  in  the  Salic  law, 
was  that  of  being  a  transitory  legislation,  doubtless  essentially 
German,  yet  distinguished  by  a  Roman  stamp ;  which  would 
have  no  future ;  and  which  showed,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
passage  from  the  German  into  the  Roman  social  state,  and  on 
the  other,  the  decay  and  fusion  of  the  two  elements  for  the 
good  of  a  new  society,  to  which  they  both  concurred,  and 
which  began  to  appear  amidst  their  wreck. 

This  result  of  the  examination  of  the  Salic  law  will  be 
singularly  confirmed,  if  the  examination  of  the  other  barba- 
rous laws  likewise  lead  us  to  it ;  still  more,  if  we  find  in  these 
various  laws,  different  epochs  of  transition,  different  phases 
of  transformation,  which  may  be  imperfectly  discovered  in  the 
other ;  if  we  recognize,  for  example,  that  the  law  of  the  Ripu- 
arians, the  law  of  the  Burgundians,  and  the  law  of  the  Visi- 
goths, are  in  some  measure  placed  in  the  same  career  as  the 
Salic  law,  at  unequal  distances,  and  leave  us,  if  the  term  be 
permitted,  products  more  or  less  advanced  in  the  combination 
of  the  German  and  Roman  society,  and  in  the  formation  of 
the  new  state  which  was  to  be  the  result. 

It  is  to  this,  I  believe,  that  the  examination  of  the  three 
laws  will,  in  fact,  conduct  us,  that  is  to  say,  of  all  those  which, 
within  the  limits  of  Gaul,  exercised  any  true  influence.  The 
distinction  between  the  Ripuarian  Franks  and  the  Salian 
Franks  is  known  to  you ;  these  were  the  two  principal  tribes, 
or  rather  the  two  principal  collections  of  tribes  of  the  great 
confederation  of  the  Franks.     The  Salian  Franks  probably 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  20?> 

took  their  name  from  the  river  Yssel  (Ysala),  upon  the  banks 
of  which  they  were  established,  after  the  movement  of  nations 
which  had  driven  them  into  Batavia ;  their  name  was  there- 
fore of  German  origin,  and  we  may  suppose  that  it  was  given 
them  by  themselves.  The  Ripuarian  Franks,  on  the  con- 
trary, evidently  received  theirs  from  the  Romans.  They 
inhabited  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  As  the  Salian  Franks 
advanced  towards  the  south-west,  into  Belgium  and  Gaul,  the 
Ripuarian  Franks  spread  also  towards  the  west,  and  occupied 
the  territory  between  the  Rhine  and  the  Meuse,  to  the  forest 
of  Ardennes.  The  first  became,  or  well  nigh,  the  Franks  of 
Neustria;  the  last,  the  Franks  of  Austrasia.  These  two  names, 
without  exactly  corresponding  to  the  primitive  distinction, 
reproduce  it  faithfully  enough. 

At  the  beginning  of  our  history,  the  two  tribes  appear  for 
a  time  re-united  in  a  single  nation  and  under  a  single  empire. 
I  will  read  to  you,  upon  this  subject,  the  account  of  Gregory 
of  Tours ;  always,  without  his  knowing  it,  the  truest  painter 
of  the  manners  and  events  of  this  epoch.  You  will  there 
see  what,  at  that  time,  was  understood  by  the  words  union  of 
nations  and  conquest. 

"  When  Clovis  came  to  battle  against  Alaric,  king  of  the 
Goths,  he  had  for  an  ally  the  son  of  Sigebert-Claude  (king 
of  the  Ripuarian  Franks,  and  who  resided  at  Cologne),  named 
Chloderic.  This  Sigebert  limped,  from  a  blow  on  the  knee 
which  he  had  received  at  the  battle  of  Tolbiac,  against  the 
Germans.  .  .  .  King  Clovis,  during  his  sojourn  at  Paris,  sent 
secretly  to  the  son  of  Sigebert,  saying  to  him :  '  Your  father 
is  aged,  and  he  limps  with  his  bad  leg :  if  he  should  die,  his 
kingdom  belongs  to  you  of  right,  as  well  as  our  friendship.' 
Seduced  by  this  ambition,  Chloderic  formed  the  project  of 
killing  his  father. 

"Sigebert  had  gone  out  of  the  town  of  Cologne,  and, 
having  passed  the  Rhine,  was  walking  in  the  forest  of  Bu- 
conia ;  he  slept  at  noon  in  his  tent ;  his  son  sent  assassins 
against  him  and  procured  his  death,  in  the  hope  that  he 
should  possess  his  kingdom.  But,  by  the  judgment  of  God, 
he  fell  into  the  very  grave  which  he  had  maliciously  dug  for 
his  father.  He  sent  to  king  Clovis  messengers  announcing 
the  death  of  his  father,  and  said  to  him :  '  My  father  is  dead, 
and  I  have  in  my  power  his  treasures  and  his  kingdom.  Send 
to  me  and  I  will  willingly  give  you  what  treasures  you  please.' 
Clovis  returned   for  answer :  '  I  return  thee  thanks  for  thy 


206  HISTOKY    OF 

good  will,  and  pray  thee  show  thy  treasures  to  my  deputies, 
after  which  thou  shalt  possess  them  all.'  Chloderic  then 
showed  his  father's  treasures  to  the  deputies.  Whilst  they 
examined  them,  the  prince  said :  '  This  is  the  coffer  in  which 
my  father  was  accustomed  to  amass  his  gold  coin.'  They 
said  to  him,  '  Plunge  your  hand  to  the  bottom,  in  order  to  find 
all.'  Having  done  this,  and  while  he  stooped  low,  one  of  the 
deputies  raised  his  axe  and  broke  his  skull.  Thus  did  this 
unworthy  son  suffer  the  same  death  which  he  had  inflicted 
on  his  father.  Clovis  learning  that  Sigebert  and  his  son  were 
dead,  came  to  this  same  town,  and  having  convoked  all  the 
people,  he  said  to  them :  '  Listen  to  what,  has  happened. 
While  I  was  sailing  upon  the  river  Scheld,  Chloderic,  my 
cousin's  son,  alarmed  his  father  by  telling  him  that  I  wished 
to  kill  him.  As  Sigebert  fled  through  the  forest  of  Buconia, 
Chloderic  sent  murderers  after  him,  who  put  him  to  death ; 
he  himself  was  assassinated,  I  know  not  by  whom,  at  the 
moment  of  his  opening  his  father's  treasures.  I  am  no  accom- 
plice in  these  things.  I  could  not  shed  the  blood  of  my 
friends,  because  it  is  forbidden  ;  but  since  these  things  have 
happened,  I  have  some  advice  to  give  you.  If  it  is  agreeable 
to  you,  follow  it.  Have  recourse  to  me  ;  put  yourselves  under 
my  protection.'  The  people  answered  these  words  by  plaudits 
of  hand  and  mouth ;  and  having  raised  him  upon  a  shield, 
they  created  him  their  king.  Clovis  then  received  the  king- 
dom and  treasures  of  Sigebert.  Every  day  God  caused  his 
enemies  to  fall  into  his  hands,  and  augmented  his  kingdom, 
because  he  walked  with  an  upright  heart  before  the  Lord, 
and  did  the  things  that  were  pleasing  in  his  sight."1 

This  union  of  the  two  nations,  if  such  a  fact  may  bear  the 
name,  was  not  of  long  duration.  On  the  death  of  Clovis,  his 
son,  Theodoric,  was  king  of  the  eastern  Franks ;  that  is 
to  say,  of  the  Ripuarian  Franks ;  he  resided  at  Metz.  To 
him  is  generally  attributed  the  compilation  of  their  law. 
This,  in  fact,  is  indicated  by  the  preface  to  the  Gallic  law, 
which  I  have  already  read,  and  which  is  likewise  found  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Bavarian  law.  According  to  this 
tradition,  then,  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians  should  be  placed 
between  the  years  511  and  534.  It  could  not  have,  like 
the   Salic,   the  pretension   of  ascending   to   the    right-hand 


i  Gregory  of  Tours,  in  my  Collection  des  Memoir cs  de  V  Histoire  dt 
France,  i.  pp.  104—107. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  207 

bank  of  the  Rhine,  and  to  ancient  Germany.  Still  its 
antiquity  must  be  great.  I  am  inclined  to  abridge  it,  in 
its  actual  form  at  least,  of  nearly  a  century  of  existence.  The 
preface,  which  describes  it  as  digested  under  Theodoric, 
attributes  to  this  chief  also  the  law  of  the  Germans  ;  now  it 
is  almost  certain  that  this  was  not  digested  until  the  reign  of 
Clotaire  II.,  between  the  years  613  and  628 ;  this  is  what 
the  best  manuscripts  give  us  reason  to  suppose.  The  author- 
ity of  this  preface,  therefore,  becomes  very  doubtful  with 
regard  to  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians  ;  and,  after  an  attentive 
comparison  of  the  evidence,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
it  was  only  under  Dagobert  I.,  between  the  years  628 
and  638,  that  it  took  the  definite  form  under  which  it  has 
reached  us. 

Let  us  now  pass  to  the  history  of  its  contents.  I  have 
submitted  it  to  the  same  analysis  as  the  Salic  law.  It  con- 
tains 89  or  91  titles,  and  (according  to  various  distributions) 
224  or  227  articles;  namely,  164  of  penal  law,  and  113  of 
political  or  civil  law,  and  civil  or  criminal  procedure.  Of 
the  164  articles  of  penal  law,  we  reckon  94  for  violence 
against  persons,  16  for  cases  of  theft,  and  64  for  various 
offences. 

At  the  first  glance,  according  to  this  simple  analysis,  the 
Ripuarian  law  a  good  deal  resembles  the  Salic  law  ;  it  is  also 
an  essentially  penal  legislation,  and  gives  evidence  of  nearly 
the  same  state  of  manners.  Still,  when  regarded  more  closely, 
we  discover  important  differences.  I  spoke  to  you  at  our  last 
meeting  of  the  conjuratores,  or  compurgators,  who,  without, 
properly  speaking,  bearing  witness,  came  to  attest  by  their 
oath  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  facts  alleged  by  the  offc  nded, 
or  the  offender.  The  conjuratores  held  a  specially  important 
place  in  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians.  There  is  mention  made  of 
them  in  fifty-eight  articles  of  this  law,  and  on  every  occasion  it 
minutely  regulates  the  number  of  the  compurgators,  the  forms 
of  their  appearance,  &c.  The  Salic  law  speaks  much  more 
rarely  of  them — so  rarely,  that  some  persons  have  doubted 
whether  the  system  of  the  conjuratores  was  in  force  among 
the  Salian  Franks.  This  doubt  does  not  seem  well  founded. 
If  the  Salic  law  has  scarcely  spoken  of  it,  it  is  because  it  looked 
upon  the  system  as  an  established  and  understood  fact,  of 
which  there  was  no  need  to  write.  Besides,  everything 
indicates  that  this  fact  was  real  and  powerful.  What  were 
the  reasons  for  its  frequent  insertion  in  the  law  of  the  Ripu- 


«!08  HISTORY   OF 

arians  ?  I  will  presently  give  the  only  explanation  of  this 
that  I  can  catch  a  glimpse  of. 

Another  custom  is  also  much  more  frequently  mentioned 
in  the  Ripuarian  than  in  the  Salic  law  ;  I  mean  judicial 
combat.  There  are  many  traces  of  it  in  the  Salic  law ;  but 
the  Ripuarian  law  formally  institutes  it  in  six  distinct  articles. 
This  institution,  if  such  a  fact  merits  the  name  of  institution, 
played  too  important  a  part  in  the  middle  ages  to  allow  of  our 
not  endeavoring  to  understand  it  at  the  moment  that  it  appears 
for  the  first  time  in  laws. 

I  have  endeavored  to  .show  how  composition — properly 
speaking,  the  only  punishment  of  the  Salic  law — was  a  first 
attempt  to  substitute  a  legal  system  in  place  of  the  right  of 
war,  in  place  of  vengeance,  and  the  contest  of  physical  force. 
Judicial  combat  was  an  attempt  of  the  same  kind  ;  its  aim  was 
to  subdue  war  itself,  individual  vengeance,  to  certain  forms  and 
rules.  Composition  and  judicial  combat  were  intimately  con- 
nected, and  simultaneously  developed  themselves.  A  crime 
had  been  committed,  a  man  offended  ;  it  was  generally  be- 
lieved that  he  had  a  right  to  revenge  himself,  to  pursue  by 
force  the  reparation  of  the  wrong  to  which  he  had  been 
subjected.  But  a  commencement  of  law,  a  shadow  of  public 
power  interfered,  and  authorized  the  offender  to  offer  a  certain 
sum  to  repair  his  crime.  But,  originally,  the  offended  party 
had  the  right  to  refuse  the  composition,  and  to  say — "  I 
will  exercise  my  right  of  vengeance,  I  desire  war."  Then 
the  legislator,  or  rather  the  customs,  for  we  personify,  under 
the  name  legislator,  mere  customs  which  for  a  long  period 
had  no  legal  authority,  the  customs  then  interfered,  saying 
— "If  you  wish  to  revenge  yourself,  and  make  war  upon 
your  enemy,  you  must  do  so  according  to  certain  terms,  and  in 
the  presence  of  certain  witnesses." 

Thus  was  judicial  combat  introduced  into  the  legislation  as 
a  regulation  of  the  right  of  war,  a  limited  arena  opened  to 
vengeance.  Such  was  its  first  and  true  source  ;  the  recourse 
to  the  judgment  of  God,  the  truth  proclaimed  by  God  him- 
self in  the  issue  of  the  combat,  are  ideas  whose  association 
with  it  is  of  later  date,  when  religious  creeds  and  the  Christian 
clergy  played  an  important  part  in  the  thought  and  life  of  the 
barbarians.  Originally,  judicial  combat  was  only  a  legal  form 
of  the  right  of  the  strongest — a  form  much  more  explicitly 
"ecognized  in  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians  than  in  the  Salic  law. 

Judging  from  the  two  differences,  one   would  be,  for  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  209 

moment,  inclined  to  suppose  that  the  first  of  these  two  laws 
was  the  most  ancient.  In  fact,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  system  of  the  conjuratores  and  judicial  combat  belonged  to 
the  primitive  German  society.  The  Ripuarian,  therefore, 
would  seem  their  most  faithful  image.  It  was  nothing  of  the 
kind.  And,  first,  these  two  differences,  which  seemed  to 
give  to  this  law  a  more  barbarous  physiognomy,  themselves 
indicate  an  effort,  a  first  step  out  of  barbarism,  for  they  give 
evidence  of  the  design,  if  not  to  abolish  it,  at  all  events  to 
regulate  it. 

Silence  upon  this  subject  leaves  all  things  under  the  em- 
pire  of  custom — that  is  to  say,  of  violence  and  chance  :  the 
Ripuarian  law  attempted  in  writing,  by  determining  the 
custom,  to  convert  it  into  law — that  is  to  say,  to  render  it 
fixed  and  general.  A  certain  symptom  of  a  more  modern 
date,  and  of  a  society  rather  more  advanced. 

Besides,  there  were  other  differences  between  these  two 
laws  which  incontestably  prove  this  result. 

1st,  You  have  seen,  by  the  simple  enumeration  of  the 
articles,  that  civil  law  held  a  greater  place  in  the  Ripuarian 
than  in  the  Salic  law.  There  penal  law  always  dominated. 
Still  the  law  is  less  exclusively  a  penal  code  ;  the  procedure, 
the  rule  of  evidence,  the  state  of  persons,  property  and  its 
various  modes  of  transmission — in  a  word,  all  parts  of  legisla- 
tion not  penal,  are,  at  least,  indicated  in  it,  and  often  with  a 
great  deal  of  precision. 

2d,  Moreover,  and  this  is  an  important  fact,  royalty 
appeared  more  in  the  Ripuarian  law  than  in  the  other.  It 
appeared  but  little  in  a  political  relation  :  it  was  not  a  question 
of  royal  power,  nor  the  manner  of  exercising  it  j  but  it  was 
a  question  of  the  king,  as  of  an  individual  more  important 
in  all  respects,  and  with  whom  the  law  should  specially 
occupy  itself.  It  regarded  him,  above  all,  as  a  proprietor  or 
patron,  as  having  vast  domains,  and  upon  these  domains  serfs 
who  cultivated  them — men  engaged  in  his  service  or  placed 
under  his  protection  ;  and  by  reason  of  this  title  they  accorded 
to  him,  to  himself  or  those  belonging  to  him,  numerous  and 
very  important  privileges.     I  will  give  a  few  examples. 

"  I.  If  any  one  carry  off  by  violence  anything  belonging  to 
one  of  the  king's  men,  or  to  any  one  attached  to  the  church, 
he  shall  pay  a  composition  treble  what  he  would  have  had  to 
pay  had  the  crime  been  committed  towards  any  other  Ripu- 
arian."—Tit.  xi.  §  4. 


210  HISTORY   OF 

"  II.  If  tha  crime  be  committed  by  a  man  attached  to  the 
church,  or  to  one  of  the  king's  domains,  he  shall  pay  half  the 
composition  which  another  Frank  would  have  paid.  In  case 
of  denial,  he  must  appear  with  thirty-six  compurgators."— 
Tit.  xviii.  §  5. 

"  III.  A  man  attached  to  the  domains  of  the  king,  Roman 
or  freedman,  cannot  be  the  object  of  a  capital  accusation."— 
Tit.  lx.  §  22. 

"  IV.  If  he  be  summoned  to  appear  in  justice,  he  shall 
make  known  his  condition  by  a  declaration  which  he  shall 
affirm  upon  the  altar ;  after  which  proceedings  with  regard 
to  him  shall  be  different  from  those  with  regard  to  the  Ripu- 
arians."— Ibid.  §  23. 

V.  Slaves  belonging  to  the  king  or  to  a  church  do  not 
plead  by  means  of  a  defender ;  but  they  defend  themselves, 
and  are  allowed  to  justify  themselves  by  oath,  without  being 
obliged  to  answer  the  summonses  which  may  be  addressed  to 
them."— Ibid.  §  24. 

"  VI.  If  any  one  shall  seek  to  overthrow  a  royal  charter 
without  being  able  to  produce  another  repealing  the  first,  he 
shall  answer  this  attempt  with  his  life." — Tit.  lvii.  §  7. 

"  VII.  Whoever  shall  commit  treason  towards  the  king 
shall  forfeit  his  life,  and  all  his  goods  shall  be  confiscated." — 
Tit.  lxxi.  §  1. 

The  Salic  law  says  nothing  of  this  kind  ;  here  royalty  has 
evidently  made  an  important  progress. 

3d.  The  same  difference  exists  between  the  two  laws  with 
regard  to  the  church  ;  the  articles  which  I  have  just  read 
completely  prove  it ;  the  church  is  everywhere  assimilated  to 
royalty ;  the  same  privileges  are  accorded  to  her  lands  and 
her  laborers. 

4th.  One  discovers,  also,  in  the  Ripuarian  law,  a  rather 
more  marked  influence  of  the  Roman  law  ;  it  does  not  confine 
itself  to  mentioning  it  merely  in  order  to  say  that  the  Romans 
lived  under  its  empire  ;  it  accepts  some  of  its  provisions. 
Thus,  in  regulating  the  formulae  of  enfranchisement,  it  says  : 

"  We  desire  that  every  Ripuarian  Frank,  or  freedman, 
who,  for  the  good  of  his  soul,  or  for  a  sum,  wishes  to  free  his 
slaves  in  the  forms  indicated  by  the  Roman  law,  present,  him- 
self at  the  church,  before  the  priests,  deacons,  and  all  the 
clergy  and  people.  .  .  ."  (The  formulae  of  enfranchisement 
follow.)— Tit.  lx.  §1. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  211 

This,  though  a  slight,  is  a  real  indication  of  a  more  ad. 
yanced  society. 

5th.  Lastly,  when  we  read  the  Ripuarian  law  attentively 
in  its  whole,  we  are  struck  with  a  character  less  barbarous 
than  that  of  the  Salic  law.  The  provisions  are  more  precise 
and  extensive  ;  we  discover  more  purpose  in  them,  and  pur- 
pose more  matured  and  political,  and  inspired  by  more  univer- 
>?al  views.  They  are  not  always  mere  customs  which  they 
digest ;  the  legislators  say  at  times,  "  We  establish,  we 
order."1  In  fact,  everything  indicates  that  this  legislation,  if 
not  in  its  form,  at  least  in  the  ideas  and  manners  which  are 
its  foundation,  belongs  to  a  posterior  epoch,  to  a  state  some- 
what less  barbarous,  and  shows  a  new  step  in  the  transition 
from  the  German  to  the  Roman  society,  and  from  these  two 
societies  to  a  new  society  arising  from  their  amalgamation. 

From  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians  let  us  pass  to  that  of  the 
Burgundians,  and  let  us  see  if  we  shall  there  find  the  same 
fact. 

The  compilation  of  the  law  of  the  Burgundians  fluctuates 
between  the  year  467  or  468,  the  second  of  the  reign  of  Gon- 
debald,  and  the  year  534,  the  time  of  the  fall  of  this  kingdom 
under  the  arms  of  the  Franks.  Three  parts,  probably  of  dif- 
ferent dates,  compose  this  law.  The  first,  which  compre- 
hends the  first  forty-one  titles,  evidently  belongs  to  king  Gon- 
debald,  and  appears  to  have  been  published  before  the  year 
501.  From  the  forty-second  title,  the  character  of  the  legis- 
lation changes.  The  new  laws  are  scarcely  anything  more 
than  modifications  of  the  old  ones ;  they  explain,  reform, 
complete,  and  announce  them  definitely.  From  the  conside- 
ration of  many  facts,  into  the  details  of  which  I  shall  not 
enter  here,  one  is  inclined  to  believe  that  this  second  part  was 
digested  and  published  towards  the  year  517,  by  Sigismond, 
the  successor  of  Gondebald.  Lastly,  two  supplements  form 
a  third  part,  added  to  the  law,  under  the  positive  name  of 
Addilamenta,  probably  also  by  Sigismond,  who  died  in  523. 

The  preface,  placed  in  front  of  the  text,  confirms  these 
conjectures  ;  it  is  evidently  composed  of  two  prefaces  of  dif- 
ferent epochs  ;  one  by  King  Gondebald,  and  the  other  by 
King  Sigismond.  Some  manuscripts  have  attributed  the  lat- 
ter also  to  Gondebald  ;  but  those  which  give  it  to  Sigismond 
certainly  merit  the  preference.- 


1  Tit  lxxvi.  §1,  lit.  xc 


212  m        HISTORY    OF 

This  preface  throws  light  upon  questions  much  more  im. 
portant  than  the  date  of  the  law,  and  at  once  clearly  distin 
guishes  it  from  the  two  laws  which  have  just  occupied  oui 
attention.  It  is  necessary  that  I  should  read  it  to  you  through- 
out. 

"  The  most  glorious  king  of  the  Burgundians,  after  having, 
for  the  interest  and  repose  of  our  people,  deliberately  reflected 
upon  our  institutions  and  those  of  our  ancestors,  and  upon 
what,  in  every  matter  and  every  business,  is  expedient  for 
honesty,  regularity,  reason,  and  justice,  we  have  weighed  all 
this  in  our  great  assemblies ;  and  as  much  by  our  advice  as 
theirs,  we  have  ordered  the  following  statutes  to  be  written, 
to  the  end  that  the  laws  may  remain  eternal : — 

"  By  the  grace  of  God,  in  the  second  year  of  the  most 
glorious  Lord  King  Sigismond,  the  book  of  ordinances  touch- 
ing the  eternal  maintenance  of  the  laws  past  and  present,  made 
at  Lyons  on  the  4th  day  of  the  calends  of  April. 

"  By  love  of  justice,  through  which  God  becomes  favorable 
to  us,  and  by  which  we  acquire  power  upon  earth,  having  first 
held  counsel  with  our  counts  and  nobles,  we  have  applied  our- 
selves to  regulate  all  things  in  such  a  manner  that  integrity 
and  justice  in  judgments  may  dispel  all  corruption.  All 
those  who  are  in  power,  counting  from  this  day,  must  judge 
between  the  Burgundian  and  the  Roman  according  to  the 
tenor  of  our  laws,  composed  and  amended  by  common  accord ; 
in  such  manner  that  no  person  shall  hope  or  dare,  in  a  judg- 
ment or  law-suit,  to  receive  anything  of  one  of  the  parties  by 
way  of  gift  or  advantage ;  but  that  the  party  having  justice 
on  his  side  shall  obtain  it,  and  that  to  this  end  the  integrity  of 
the  judge  shall  suffice.  We  think  it  our  duty  to  impose  this 
duty  on  ourselves,  to  the  end  that  no  one,  in  what  case  soever, 
shall  tempt  our  integrity  by  solicitations  or  presents,  thus, 
from  love  of  justice,  repelling  far  from  ourselves,  what, 
throughout  our  kingdoms,  we  interdict  all  judges  from  doing. 
Our  treasury  shall  no  longer  pretend  to  exact  more  as  penalty 
than  is  found  established  in  the  laws.  Let  the  nobles,  counts, 
counsellors,  domestics,  and  mayors  of  our  house,  the  chancel- 
lors and  counts  of  cities  and  districts,  both  Burgundians  and 
Romans,  as  well  as  all  deputy  judges,  even  in  case  of  war, 
know  then  that  they  are  to  receive  nothing  for  causes  treated 
or  judged  before  them ;  and  that  they  shall  ask  nothing  of  the 
parties  by  way  of  promise  or  recompense.  The  parties  shall 
not  be  forced  to  compound  with  the  judge  in  such  a  manne? 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  213 

that  he  shall  receive  anything.  If  any  of  the  said  judges 
allow  themselves  to  be  corrupted,  and,  despite  our  laws,  be 
convicted  of  receiving  a  recompense  in  a  law-suit  or  judg- 
ment, however  justly  tried,  for  the  example  of  all,  if  the  crime 
be  proved,  let  him  be  punished  with  death,  in  such  a  manner, 
however,  that  he  who  is  convicted  of  venality,  having  been 
punished  himself,  his  possessions  be  not  taken  from  his  chil- 
dren or  legitimate  heirs.  With  regard  to  the  secretaries  of 
deputy  judges,  we  think  that,  for  their  fee  in  cases,  a  third  of 
a  penny  should  be  allowed  them  in  causes  above  ten  solidi ; 
below  that  sum  they  must  demand  less.  The  crime  of  venality 
being  interdicted  under  the  same  penalties,  we  order  that 
Romans  be  judged  according  to  Roman  laws,  as  was  done  by 
our  ancestors  ;  and  let  these  latter  know  that  they  shall 
receive  in  writing  the  form  and  tenor  of  the  laws  according 
to  which  they  shall  be  judged  ;  to  the  end  that  no  person  can 
excuse  himself  upon  the  score  of  ignorance.  As  regards 
what  may  have  been  ill-judged  formerly,  the  tenor  of  the 
ancient  law  must  be  preserved.  We  add  this,  that  if  a  judge 
accused  of  corruption  cannot  in  any  way  be  convicted,  the 
accuser  shall  be  liable  to  the  penalty  which  we  have  ordered 
to  be  inflicted  upon  a  prevaricating  judge. 

"  If  some  point  be  found  unprovided  for  in  our  laws,  we  order 
that  it  be  referred  to  our  judgment,  upon  that  point  only.  If 
any  judge,  whether  barbarian  or  Roman,  through  simplicity  or 
negligence,  judge  not  a  cause  upon  which  our  law  has  deter- 
mined, and  if  he  be  exempt  from  corruption,  let  him  know 
that  he  shall  pay  thirty  Roman  solidi,  and  that  the  parties 
being  interrogated,  the  cause  shall  be  judged  anew.  We  add 
that  if,  after  having  been  summoned  three  times,  the  judges 
decide  not ;  and  if  he  whose  cause  it  is  thinks  it  should  be 
referred  to  us  ;  and  if  he  prove  that  he  has  summoned  his 
judges  three  times,  and  has  no  been  heard,  the  judge  shall 
be  condemned  to  a  fine  of  twelve  solidi.  But  if  any  person, 
in  any  case  whatsoever,  having  neglected  to  summon  the 
judges  three  times,  as  we  have  prescribed,  dares  to  address 
himself  to  us,  he  shall  pay  the  fine  which  we  have  established 
for  a  tardy  judge.  And  in  order  that  a  cause  may  not  bo 
delayed  by  the  absence  of  the  deputy  judges,  let  no  Roman 
or  Burgundian  count  presume  to  judge  a  cause  in  the  absence 
of  the  judge  before  whom  it  should  be  tried,  to  the  end  that 
those  who  have  recourse  to  the  law  may  not  be  uncertain  as 
to  the  jurisdiction.     It  has  pleased  us  to  confirm  this  serie» 

24 


214  HISTORY   OF 

of  our  ordinances  by  the  signature  of  the  counts,  t>  the  end 
that  the  rule  which  has  been  written  by  our  will,  and  the  will 
of  all,  be  preserved  by  posterity,  and  have  the  solidity  of  an 
eternal  compact."  (Here  follow  the  signatures  of  thirty-two. 
counts.) 

Without  going  further,  from  this  preface  only  the  differ- 
ence  of  the  three  laws  is  evident ;  this  latter  is  not  a  mere 
collection  of  customs,  we  know  not  by  whom  digested,  nor 
at  what  epoch,  nor  with  what  view  ;  it  is  a  work  of  legisla- 
tion, emanating  from  a  regular  power,  with  a  view  to  public 
order,  which  offers  some  truly  political  characteristics,  and 
gives  evidences  of  a  government,  or,  at  least,  the  design  of  a 
government. 

Let  us  now  enter  into  the  law  itself;  it  does  not  belie  the 
preface. 

It  contains  110  titles,  and  354  articles,  namely:  142  arti- 
cles of  civil  law,  30  of  civil  or  criminal  procedure,  and  182 
of  penal  law.  The  penal  law  is  divided  into  72  articles  for 
crimes  against  persons,  62  for  crimes  against  property,  and 
44  for  various  crimes. 

These  are  the  principal  results  to  which  we  are  conducted 
by  the  examination  of  the  provisions  thus  classified : 

I.  The  condition  of  the  Burgundian  and  the  Roman  is  the 
same  ;  all  legal  difference  has  vanished :  in  civil  or  criminal 
matters,  whether  as  offended  or  offenders,  they  are  placed 
upon  a  footing  of  equality.  The  texts  abound  in  proofs  of  it. 
I  select  some  of  the  most  striking : — 

1.  "Let  the  Burgundian  and  the  Roman  be  subjected  to 
the  same  condition." — Tit.  x.  §  1. 

2.  <4  If  a  young  Roman  girl  be  united  to  a  Burgundiau 
without  the  consent  or  knowledge  of  her  parents,  let  her 
know  that  she  shall  receive  none  of  her  parents'  possessions." 
—Tit.  xii.  §  5. 

3.  "  If  any  free  Burgundian  enter  into  a  house  for  anv 
quarrel,  let  him  pay  six  solidi  to  the  master  of  the  house, 
and  twelve  solidi  as  a  fine.  We  wish  in  this  that  the  same 
condition  be  imposed  upon  the  Romans  and  the  Burgundians." 
—Tit.  xv.  §  1. 

4  "  If  any  man,  travelling  on  his  private  business,  arrive 
at  the  house  of  a  Burgundian  and  demand  hospitality  of  him, 
and  if  the  Burgundian  show  him  the  house  of  a  Roman,  and 
this  can  be  proved,  let  the  Burgundian  pay  three  solidi  to  him 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FKANCE.  215 

whose  house  he  pointed  out,  and  three  solidi  by  way  of  fine." 
— Tit.  xxxviii.  §  6. 

These  regulations  certainly  exhibit  care  to  maintain  the 
two  people  on  the  same  footing.  We  thus  read  in  Gregory 
of  Tours :  "  King  Gondebald  instituted,  in  the  country  now 
named  Burgundy,  the  most  mild  laws,  in  order  that  the  Ro- 
mans might  not  be  oppressed."1 

II.  The  penal  law  of  the  Burgundians  is  not  the  same  as 
that  of  the  Franks.  Composition  had  always  existed  in  it, 
but  it  was  no  longer  the  sole  penalty ;  corporal  penalties  ap- 
peared ;  we  find  also  certain  moral  penalties;  the  legislator 
attempted  to  make  use  of  shame.2  Already,  even,  it  invented 
strange  punishments,  such  as  are  so  often  found  in  the  legis- 
lation of  the  middle  ages.  If,  for  example,  a  hunting  spar- 
row-hawk was  stolen,  the  robber  was  condemned  to  let  the 
sparrow-hawk  eat  six  ounces  of  flesh  from  his  body,  or  to  pay 
six  solidi.  This  is  but  a  piece  of  fantastical  savageness ;  but 
it  indicated  attempts  at  punishment  very  different  from  the 
ancient  German  customs.  The  difference  manifests  itself 
also  by  other  symptoms ;  crimes  are  much  more  various, 
fewer  of  them  are  against  persons,  and  we  see  some  arise 
which  bespeak  more  regular  and  complicated  social  relations. 

III.  Civil  right  and  procedure  also  occupy  a  much  greater 
place  in  the  law  of  the  Burgundians  than  in  the  two  preced. 
ing  laws.  They  form  the  subject  of  nearly  half  the  articles  ; 
in  the  law  of  the  Ripuarians  they  only  occupy  two-fifths,  and 
only  the  sixth  of  the  Salic  law.  One  need  only  open  the 
laws  of  Gondebald  and  Sigismund  in  order  to  perceive  there 
a  multitude  of  provisions  upon  successions,  testaments,  be- 
quests, marriages,  contracts,  &c. 

IV.  One  even  meets  there  with  some  positive  marks  of  the 
Roman  law.  We  could  scarcely  discover  any  traces  of  such 
a  fact  in  the  Ripuarian  law ;  here  it  is  plainly  visible,  par- 
ticularly in  what  concerns  civil  law ;  nothing  can  be  more 
simple  ;  civil  law  was  rare  and  weak  in  barbarous  laws;  from 
the  time  that  the  progress  of  civil  relations  furnished  the  mat- 
ter, as  it  were,  it  was  from  the  Roman  legislation  that  they 
were  obliged  to  borrow  the  form. 

Here  are  two  provisions  where  the  imitation  is  certain : 

1  Tom.  i.,  p  96,  of  my  Collection  dea  Mimoires  relatift  a  rffis- 
totre  de  France. 

*  See  the  first  Supplement,  tit.  x. 


216  HISTORY   OF 

1.  1. 

"  If  a  Burgundian  woman,  after  "  Let  no  person  be  ignorant  that 
the  death  of  her  husband,  enters,  if  women,  the  lawful  time  being 
as  happens,  into  a  second  or  a  passed,  enter  into  a  second  mar- 
third,  marriage,  and  if  she  has  sons  riage,  having  children  by  the  form- 
by  each  marriage,  let  her  possess  in  er  marriage,  they  shall  preserve, 
usufruct,  while  she  lives,1  the  during  their  life,  the  usufruct  of 
nuptial  donation  ;  but  after  her  what  they  received  2at  the  time  of 
death,  each  of  her  sons  shall  come  their  marriage,  the  property  com- 
into  the  possession  of  what  his  fa-  ing  entire  to  their  children,  to 
ther  gave  to  his  mother ;  and  thus  whom  the  most  sacred  laws  pre- 
the  woman  has  no  right  to  give,  serve  the  right  of  it  after  their  pa- 
sell,  or  alienate  anything  that  she  rents'  death." — Cod.  Theod.,  liv 
received  as  a  nuptial  donation." —  iii.  tit.  viii.  1.  3 ;  Ibid.  1.  2. 
Tit.  xxiv.  §  1. 

2.  2. 

"  Bequests  and  testaments  made  "  In  codicils  that  are  not  preced- 
among  our  people  shall  be  valid  ed  by  a  testament,  as  in  wills,  the 
when  five  or  seven  witnesses  have  mediation  of  five  or  seven  witness- 
set  thereto,  as  best  they  can,  their  es  must  never  be  wanting." — Cod 
seal  or  signature." — Tit.  xliii.  §  2.  Theod.  liv.  iv.,  tit.  iii.  1.  1. 

I  might  indicate  other  apparent  analogies. 

V.  Lastly,  the  law  of  the  Burgundians  clearly  shows  that 
royalty  had  made  great  progress  among  that  people.  Not 
that  it  is  more  in  question  there  than  elsewhere ;  it  was  not 
in  question  at  all  in  a  political  point  of  view;  the  Burgundian 
law  is  the  least  political  of  the  barbarian  laws,  the  one  which 
most  exclusively  confines  itself  to  penal  and  civil  law,  and 
contains  the  fewest  allusions  to  general  government ;  but  by 
this  law  in  its  whole,  by  its  preface,  and  by  the  tone  and  spirit 
of  its  compilation,  one  is  reminded  at  every  step  that  the  king 
is  no  longer  merely  a  warrior  chief,  or  merely  a  great  pro- 
prietor j  and  that  royalty  has  left  its  barbarous  condition,  in 
order  to  become  a  public  power. 

You  see  all  this  gives  evidence  of  a  more  developed  and 
better  regulated  society ;  the  Roman  element  prevails  more 
and  more  over  the  barbarous  element ;  we  visibly  advance  in 
the  transition  from  one  to  the  other,  or  rather  in  the  work  of 
fusion  which  is  to  combine  them  together.  What  the  Bur- 
gundians appear  to  have  chiefly  borrowed  from  the  Roman 
empire,  independently  of  some  traits  of  civil  law,  is  the  idea 
of  public  order,  of  government  properly  so  called  ;  hardly  can 
we  catch  a  glimpse  of  any  trace  of  the  ancient  German  assem. 


1  Dum  advivit  usufructu  possideat. 

8  Dum  advixerit  in  usufructu  possideat  (Interpret.) 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  217 

blies ;  the  influence  of  the  clergy  does  not  appear  dominant  j 
it  was  royalty  which  prevailed,  and  strove  to  reproduce  the 
imperial  power. 

The  Burgundian  kings  seem  to  have  the  most  completely 
followed  the  emperors  and  reigned  after  their  model.  Per- 
haps  the  cause  should  be  sought  for  in  the  date  of  their  king- 
dom, which  was  one  of  the  earliest  founded,  while  the  organi. 
zation  of  the  empire  still  existed,  or  nearly  so ;  perhaps,  also, 
their  establishment,  enclosed  within  narrower  limits  than  those 
of  the  Visigoths  or  the  Franks,  may  have  promptly  invested 
it  with  a  more  regular  form.  However  this  may  be,  the  fact 
is  certain,  and  characterizes  the  nation  and  its  legislation. 

It  continued  in  vigor  after  the  Burgundians  had  passed 
under  the  yoke  of  the  Franks ;  the  formulas  of  Marculf  and 
the  capitularies  of  Charlemagne  prove  it.1  We  find  it  even 
formally  mentioned  in  the  ninth  century  by  the  bishops 
Agobard  and  Hincmar ;  but  few  men,  they  observe,  now  live 
under  this  law. 

III.  The  destiny  of  the  law  of  the  Visigoths  was  more  im- 
portant, and  of  greater  duration.  It  formed  a  considerable 
collection,  entitled  Forum  judicum,  and  was  successively 
digested,  from  the  year  466,  the  epoch  of  the  accession  of 
king  Euric,  who  resided  at  Toulouse,  to  the  year  701,  the 
time  of  the  death  of  Egica  or  Egiza,  who  resided  at  Toledo. 
This  statement  alone  announces  that,  in  this  interval,  great 
changes  must  have  taken  place  in  the  situation  of  the  people 
for  whom  the  law  was  made.  The  Visigoths  were  first 
established  in  the  south  of  Gaul ;  it  was  in  507  that  Clovis 
drove  them  hence,  and  took  from  them  all  Aquitaine ;  they 
only  preserved  on  the  north  of  the  Pyrenees  a  Septimani. 
The  legislation  of  the  Visigoths,  therefore,  is  of  no  importance 
in  the  history  of  our  civilization  until  this  epoch ;  in  later 
times,  Spain  is  almost  solely  interested  in  it. 

While  he  reigned  at  Toulouse,  Euric  caused  the  customs 
of  the  Goths  to  be  written ;  his  successor,  Alaric,  who  was 
killed  by  Clovis,  collected  and  published  the  laws  of  his  Ro- 
man subjects  under  the  name  of  Breviarium.  The  Visigoths, 
then,  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century,  were  in  the 
same  situation  as  the  Burgundians  and  the  Franks ;  the  bar- 
barous law  and  the  Roman  law  were  distinct  j  each  nation 
retained  its  own. 

I  Marculf,  b.  i.,  f.  8  ;  capit.  2  a  813.     Baluze,  1505. 


218  HISTORY    OF 

When  the  Visigoths  were  driven  into  Spain,  tms  state  wat 
altered ;  their  king,  Chindasuinthe  (642-652),  fused  the  two 
laws  into  one,  and  formally  abolished  the  Roman  law  ;  there 
was  from  that  time  but  one  code,  and  one  nation.  Thus  was 
substituted  among  the  Visigoths  the  system  of  real  laws,  or 
according  to  territory,  in  the  place  of  personal  laws,  or  ac- 
cording to  origin  or  races.  This  last  had  prevailed  and  still 
prevailed  among  all  barbarous  nations,  when  Chindasuinthe 
abolished  it  from  among  the  Visigoths.  But  it  was  in  Spain 
that  this  revolution  was  completed ;  it  was  there  that  from 
Chindasuinthe  to  Egica  (642-701)  the  Forum  judicum  was 
developed,  completed,  and  took  the  form  under  which  we  now 
see  it.  As  long  as  the  Visigoths  occupied  the  south  of  Gaul, 
the  compilation  of  their  ancient  customs  and  the  Breviarium 
alone  ruled  the  country.  The  Forum  judicum  has,  therefore, 
for  France,  only  an  indirect  interest ;  still  it  was  for  some 
time  in  vigor  in  a  small  portion  of  southern  Gaul ;  it  occupies 
a  great  place  in  the  general  history  of  barbarous  laws,  and 
figures  there  as  a  very  remarkable  phenomenon.  Let  me, 
therefore,  make  you  acquainted  with  its  character  and  its 
whole. 

The  law  of  the  Visigoths  is  incomparably  more  extensive 
than  any  of  those  which  have  just  occupied  our  attention. 
It  is  composed  of  a  title  which  serves  as  a  preface,  and  twelve 
books,  divided  into  54  titles,  in  which  are  comprehended  595 
articles,  or  distinct  laws  of  various  origins  and  date.  All  the 
laws  enacted  or  reformed  by  the  Visigoth  kings,  from  Euric 
to  Egica,  are  contained  in  this  collection. 

All  legislative  matters  are  there  met  with  ;  it  is  not  a  col- 
lection of  ancient  customs,  nor  a  first  attempt  at  civil  reform ; 
it  is  a  universal  code,  a  code  of  political,  civil,  and  criminal 
law  :  a  code  systematically  digested,  with  the  view  of  provid- 
ing for  all  the  requisites  of  society.  It  is  not  only  a  code,  a 
totality  of  legislative  provisions,  but  it  is  also  a  system  of 
philosophy,  a  doctrine.  It  is  preceded  by,  and  here  and  there 
mixed  with  dissertations  upon  the  origin  of  society,  the  nature 
of  power,  civil  organization,  and  the  composition  and  publica- 
tion of  laws,  and  not  only  is  it  a  system,  but  also  a  collection 
of  moral  exhortations,  menaces,  and  advice.  The  Forum 
judicum,  in  a  word,  bears  at  once  a  legislative,  philosophical, 
and  religious  character ;  it  partakes  of  the  several  properties 
pf  a  law,  a  science,  and  a  sermon. 

The  course  is  simple  enough ;  the  law  of  the  Visigoths  was 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  219 

the  work  of  the  clergy;  it  emanated  from  the  coutcils  of 
Toledo.  The  councils  of  Toledo  were  the  national  assemblies 
of  the  Spanish  monarchy.  Spain  has  this  singular  charac- 
teristic, that,  from  the  earliest  period  of  its  history,  the  clergy 
played  a  much  greater  part  in  it  than  elsewhere  ;  what  the 
field  of  Mars  or  May  was  to  the  Franks,  what  the  Witten- 
agemote  to  the  Anglo-Saxons,  and  what  the  general  assembly 
of  Pavia  was  to  the  Lombards,  such  were  the  councils  of 
Toledo  to  the  Visigoths  of  Spain.  It  was  there  that  the  laws 
were  digested,  and  all  the  great  national  affairs  debated. 
Thus,  the  clergy  was,  so  to  speak,  the  centre  around  which 
grouped  royalty,  the  lay  aristocracy,  the  people  and  the 
whole  of  society.  The  Visigoth  code  is  evidently  the  work 
of  the  ecclesiastics  ;  it  has  the  vices  and  the  merits  of  their 
spirit;  it  is  incomparably  more  rational,  just,  mild,  and 
exact ;  it  understands  much  better  the  rights  of  humanity,  the 
duties  <5f  government,  and  the  interests  of  society ;  and  it 
strives  to  attain  a  much  more  elevated  aim  than  any  other  of 
the  barbarous  legislations.  But,  at  the  same  time,  it  leaves 
society  much  more  devoid  of  guarantees ;  it  abandons  it  on 
one  side  to  the  clergy,  and  on  the  other  to  royalty.  The 
Frank,  Saxon,  Lombard,  and  even  Burgundian  laws,  respect 
the  guarantees  arising  from  ancient  manners,  of  individual 
independence,  the  rights  of  each  proprietor  in  his  domains, 
the  participation,  more  or  less  regular,  and  more  or  less  exten- 
sive, of  freemen  in  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  in  judgments, 
and  in  the  conduct  of  the  acts  of  civil  life.  In  the  Forum 
judicum,  almost  all  these  traces  of  the  primitive  German 
society  have  disappeared  ;  a  vast  administration,  semi-ecclesi- 
astical and  semi-imperial,  extends  over  society.  I  surely  need 
not  observe,  for  your  thoughts  will  have  outrun  my  words, 
that  this  is  a  new  and  prodigious  step  in  the  route  on  which 
we  proceed.  Since  we  have  studied  the  barbarous  laws,  we 
advance  more  and  more  towards  the  same  result,  the  fusion  of 
the  two  societies  becomes  more  and  more  general  and  profound ; 
and  in  this  fusion,  in  proportion  as  it  was  brought  about,  the 
Roman  element,  whether  civil  or  religious,  dominated  more 
and  more.  The  Ripuarian  law  is  less  German  than  the  Salic  ; 
the  law  of  the  Burgundians  less  so  than  the  Ripuarian  law ; 
and  the  law  of  the  Visigoths  still  less  so  than  that  of  the  Bur. 
gundians.  It  is  evidently  in  this  direction  that  the  river  flows, 
towards  this  aim  that  the  progress  of  events  tends. 

Singular  spectacle  !     Just  now  we  were  in  the  last  age  of 


220  HISTORY   OF 

Roman  civilization,  and  found  it  in  full  decline,  without 
strength,  fertility,  or  splendor,  incapable,  as  it  were,  of  sub- 
sisting ;  conquered  and  ruined  by  barbarians ;  now  all  of  a 
sudden  it  reappears,  powerful  and  fertile ;  it  exercises  a  pro- 
digious influence  over  the  institutions  and  manners  which 
associate  thsmselves  with  it;  it  gradually  impresses  on  them 
its  character ;  it  dominates  over  and  transforms  its  conquerors. 

Two  causes,  among  many  others,  produced  this  result ;  the 
power  of  a  civil  legislation,  strong  and  closely  knit ;  and  the 
natural  ascendency  of  civilization  over  barbarism. 

In  fixing  themselves  and  becoming  proprietors,  the  bar- 
barians contracted,  among  themselves,  and  with  the  Romans, 
relations  much  more  varied  and  more  durable,  than  any 
they  had  hitherto  known ;  their  civil  existence  became  much 
more  extensive  and  permanent.  The  Roman  law  alone  could 
regulate  it ;  that  alone  was  prepared  to  provide  for  so  many 
relations.  The  barbarians,  even  in  preserving  their  customs, 
even  while  remaining  masters  of  the  country,  found  them- 
selves taken,  so  to  speak,  in  the  nets  of  this  learned  legis- 
lation, and  found  themselves  obliged  to  submit,  in  a  great 
measure,  doubtless  not  in  a  political  point  of  view,  but  in 
civil  matters,  to  the  new  social  order.  Besides,  the  mere 
sight  of  Roman  civilization  exercised  great  influence  on  their 
imagination.  What  now  moves  ourselves,  what  we  seek  with 
eagerness  in  history,  poems,  travels,  novels,  is  the  represen- 
tation of  a  society  foreign  to  the  regularity  of  our  own ;  it  is 
the  savage  life,  its  independence,  novelty,  and  adventures 
Very  different  were  the  impressions  of  the  barbarians  ;  it 
was  civilization  which  struck  them,  which  seemed  to  them 
great  and  marvellous ;  the  remains  of  Roman  activity,  the 
cities,  roads,  aqueducts,  and  amphitheatres,  all  that  society 
so  regular,  so  provident,  and  so  varied  in  its  fixedness — 
these  were  the  objects  of  their  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion. Although  conquerors,  they  felt  themselves  inferior  to 
the  conquered ;  the  barbarian  might  despise  the  Roman  in- 
dividually, but  the  Roman  empire  in  its  whole  appeared 
to  him  something  superior;  and  all  the  great  men  of  the 
age  of  conquests,  the  Alarics,  the  Ataulphs,  the  Theodorics, 
and  many  others,  while  destroying  and  throwing  to  the 
ground  the  Roman  Empire,  exerted  all  their  power  to 
imitate  it. 

These  are  the  principal  facts  which  manifested  themselves 
in  the  epoch  which  we  have  just  reviewed,  and,  above  all, 


CIVILIZATION    IN   PXANCE.  221 

in  the  compilation  and  successive  transformation  of  the  bar. 
baric  laws.  We  shall  seek,  in  our  next  lecture,  what  re. 
mained  of  the  Roman  laws  to  govern  the  Romans  themselves, 
while  the  Germans  were  applying  themselves  to  writing 
their  own. 


222  HISTORY  OF 


ELEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Perpetuity  of  the  Roman  law  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire— Of  the  His- 
tory of  the  Roman  Law  in  the  Middle  Ages,  by  M.  de  Savigny— 
Merits  and  deficiencies  of  this  work — 1.  Roman  law  among  the 
Visigoths — Breviarium  Aniani,  collected  by  command  of  Alaric — 
History  and  contents  of  this  collection — 2.  Roman  law  among  the 
Burgundians — Papiani  Responsorum — History  and  contents  of  this 
law — 3.  Roman  law  among  the  Franks — No  new  c  ollection — The 
perpetuity  of  Roman  law  proved  by  various  facts — Recapitulation. 

You  are  now  acquainted  with  the  state  of  German  and  Roman 
society  before  the  invasion.  You  know  the  general  result  of 
their  first  approximation,  that  is  to  say,  the  state  of  Gaul 
immediately  after  the  invasion.  We  have  just  studied  the 
barbaric  laws  j  that  is,  the  first  labor  of  the  German  nations 
to  adapt  their  ancient  customs  to  their  new  situation.  Let  us 
now  study  Roman  legislation  at  the  same  epoch,  that  is  to  say, 
that  portion  of  the  Roman  law  and  institutions  which  survived 
the  invasion  and  continued  to  rule  the  Gallic  Romans.  This 
is  the  subject  of  a  German  work,  for  some  years  past  cele- 
brated in  the  learned  world,  The  History  of  the  Roman  Law  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  by  M.  de  Savigny.  The  design  of  the 
author  is  more  extended  than  ours,  because  he  retraces  the 
history  of  the  Roman  law,  not  only  in  France,  but  throughout 
Europe.  He  has  also  treated  of  what  concerns  France  with 
more  detail  than  I  have  been  able  to  give  to  it  here  ;  and, 
before  beginning  the  subject,  I  must  request  your  attention  a 
moment  while  I  speak  of  his  work. 

The  perpetuity  of  the  Roman  law,  from  the  fall  of  the 
Empire  until  the  regeneration  of  sciences  and  letters,  is  its 
fundamental  idea.  The  contrary  opinion  was  long  and  gene- 
rally  spread  ;  it  was  believed  that  Roman  law  had  fallen  with 
the  Empire,  to  be  resuscitated  in  the  twelfth  century  by  the 
discovery  of  a  manuscript  of  the  Pandects,  found  at  Amalfi. 
This  is  the  error  that  M.  de  Savigny  has  wished  to  dissipate. 
His  first  two  volumes  are  wholly  taken  up  by  researches  into 
the  traces  of  the  Roman  law  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, and  in  proving,  by  recovering  its  history,  that  it  had 
never  ceased  to  exist. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  223 

The  demonstration  is  convincing,  and  the  end  fully  attained. 
Still,  the  work,  considered  as  a  whole,  and  as  an  historical 
production,  leaves  room  for  some  observations. 

Every  epoch,  every  historical  matter,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
may  be  considered  under  three  different  points  of  view,  and 
imposes  a  triple  task  upon  the  historian.  He  can,  nay,  he 
should  first  seek  the  facts  themselves ;  collect  and  bring  to 
light,  without  any  aim  than  that  of  exactitude,  all  that  has 
happened.  The  facts  once  recovered,  it  is  necessary  to  know 
the  laws  that  have  governed  them  ;  how  they  were  connected  ; 
what  causes  have  brought  about  those  incidents  which  are  the 
life  of  society,  and  propel  it,  by  certain  ways,  towards  certain 
ends. 

I  wish  to  mark  with  clearness  and  precision  the  difference 
of  the  two  studies.  Facts,  properly  so  called,  external  and 
visible  events,  are  the  body  of  history  ;  the  members,  bones, 
muscles,  organs,  and  material  elements  of  the  past ;  their 
knowledge  and  description  form  what  may  be  called  historical 
anatomy.  But  for  society,  as  for  the  individual,  anatomy  is 
not  the  only  science.  Not  only  do  facts  subsist,  but  they  are 
connected  with  one  another  ;  they  succeed  each  other,  and  are 
engendered  by  the  action  of  certain  forces,  which  act  under 
the  empire  of  certain  laws.  There  is,  in  a  word,  an  organiza- 
tion and  a  life  of  societies,  as  well  as  of  the  individual.  This 
organization  has  also  its  science,  the  science  of  the  secret  laws 
which  preside  over  the  course  of  events.  This  is  the  physi- 
ology of  history. 

Neither  historical  physiology  nor  anatomy  are  complete 
and  veritable  history.  You  have  enumerated  the  facts,  you 
have  followed  the  internal  and  general  laws  which  produced 
them.  Do  you  also  know  their  external  and  living  physiog- 
nomy ?  Have  you  them  before  your  eyes  under  individual 
and  animate  features  ?  This  is  absolutely  necessary,  because 
these  facts;  now  dead,  have  lived — the  past  has  been  the 
present ;  and  unless  it  again  become  so  to  you,  if  the  dead 
are  not  resuscitated,  you  know  them  not ;  you  do  not  know 
history.  Could  the  anatomist  and  physiologist  surmise  man 
if  they  had  never  seen  him  living  ? 

The  research  into  facts,  the  study  of  their  organization, 
the  reproduction  of  their  form  and  motion,  these  are  history 
such  as  truth  would  have  it.  We  may  accept  but  one  or 
other  of  these  tasks ;  we  may  consider  the  past  under  such 
or  such  a  point  of  view,  and  propose  such  or  such  a  design ; 


224  HISTORY   OF 

we  may  prefer  the  criticism  of  facts,  or  the  study  of  theii 
laws,  or  the  reproduction  of  the  spectacle.  These  labors 
may  be  excellent  and  honorable ;  but  it  must  never  be  for- 
gotten that  they  are  partial  and  incomplete  ;  that  this  is  not 
history — that  history  has  a  triple  problem  to  resolve ;  tha+ 
every  great  historical  work,  in  order  to  be  placed  in  its  true 
position,  should  be  considered  and  judged  of  under  a  triple 
relation. 

Under  the  first,  as  a  research  of,  and  criticism  upon,  histo- 
rical material  elements,  The  History  of  the  Roman  Law  in  the 
Middle  Ages  is  a  very  remarkable  book.  Not  only  has  M. 
de  Savigny  discovered  or  re-established  many  unknown  oi 
forgotten  facts,  but  (what  is  much  more  rare  and  difficult)  he 
nas  assigned  to  them  their  true  relation.  When  I  say  their 
relation,  I  do  not  yet  speak  of  the  links  which  unite  them  in 
their  development,  but  merely  of  their  disposition,  of  the  place 
which  they  occupy  in  regard  to  one  another,  and  of  their  rela- 
tive importance.  Nothing  is  so  common  in  history,  even  with 
the  most  exact  knowledge  of  facts,  as  to  assign  to  them  a  place 
other  than  that  which  they  really  occupied,  of  attributing  to 
them  an  importance  which  they  did  not  possess.  M.  de  Sa- 
vigny has  not  struck  on  this  rock  ;  his  enumeration  of  facts  is 
learned  and  equal ;  and  he  distributes  and  compares  them 
with  like  knowledge  and  discernment ;  I  repeat,  that,  in  all 
that  belongs  to  the  anatomical  study  of  that  portion  of  the  past 
which  forms  the  subject  of  his  work,  he  has  left  scarcely  any- 
thing to  be  desired. 

As  a  philosophical  history,  as  a  study  of  the  general  and 
progressive  organization  of  facts,  I  cannot  say  so  much  for  it. 
It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  M.  de  Savigny  has  proposed 
this  task  to  himself,  or  that  he  has  even  thought  of  it.  Not 
only  has  he  omitted  all  attempt  to  place  the  particular  history 
upon  which  he  occupied  himself  in  relation  with  the  general 
history  of  civilization  and  of  human  nature,  but  even  within 
his  own  subject,  he  has  troubled  himself  but  little  with  any 
systematic  concatenation  of  facts ;  he  has  not  in  the  least 
considered  them  as  causes  and  effects,  in  their  relation  of 
generation.  They  present  themselves  in  his  work,  totally 
isolated,  and  having  between  them  no  other  relation  than  that 
of  dates,  a  relation  which  is  no  true  link,  and  which  gives  to 
facts  neither  meaning  nor  value. 

Nor  do  we  meet,  in  any  greater  degree,  with  poetical  truth ; 
r«cts  do  not  appear  to  M.  de  Savigny  under  their  living  phy 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  225 

Biognomy.  It  is  true,  upon  such  a  subject,  he  had  neithef 
characters  nor  scenes  to  reproduce ;  his  personages  are  texts, 
and  his  events  publications  or  abrogations  of  laws.  Still  these 
texts  and  legislative  reforms  belonged  to  a  society  which  had 
its  manners  and  its  life ;  they  are  associated  with  events 
more  suited  to  strike  the  imagination — to  invasions,  founda- 
tions of  states,  &c.  There  is  among  these  a  certain  dramatic 
aspect  to  seize  ;  in  this  M.  de  Savigny  has  failed  ;  his  disser 
tations  are  not  marked  with  the  hue  of  the  spectacle  witl. 
which  they  are  connected  ;  he  does  not  reproduce  the  external 
and  individual  traits  of  history  any  more  than  its  internal  and 
general  laws. 

And  do  not  suppose  that  in  this  there  is  no  other  evil  than 
that  of  a  deficiency,  and  that  this  absence  of  philosophical 
and  poetical  truth  is  without  influence  upon  the  criticism  of 
the  material  elements  of  history.  More  than  once  M.  de 
Savigny,  from  not  properly  taking  hold  of  the  laws  and  phy- 
siognomy of  facts,  has  been  led  into  error  regarding  the  facts 
themselves;  he  has  not  deceived  himself  as  to  texts  and 
dates ;  he  has  not  omitted  or  incorrectly  reported  such  or 
such  an  event ;  he  has  committed  a  species  of  error  for  which 
the  English  have  a  word  which  is  wanting  in  our  tongue, 
misrepresentation,  that  is  to  say,  he  has  spread  a  false  hue 
over  facts,  arising,  not  from  any  inaccuracy  in  particular  de- 
tails, but  from  want  of  verity  in  the  aspect  of  the  whole,  in 
the  manner  in  which  the  mirror  reflects  the  picture.  In 
treating,  for  example,  of  the  social  state  of  the  Germans  be- 
fore the  invasion,  M.  de  Savigny  speaks  in  detail  of  the  free 
men,  of  their  situation  and  their  share  in  the  national  institu- 
tions ;l  his  knowledge  of  historical  documents  is  extensive 
and  correct,  and  the  facts  alleged  by  him  are  true ;  but  he 
has  not  rightly  considered  the  mobility  of  situations  among 
the  barbarians,  nor  the  secret  contest  between  those  two  socie- 
ties, the  tribe  and  the  warlike  band,  which  co-existed  among 
the  Germans,  nor  the  influence  of  the  latter  in  altering  the 
individual  equality  and  independence  which  served  as  the 
foundation  of  the  former,  nor  the  vicissitudes  and  successive 
transformations  to  which  the  condition  of  the  free  men  was 
subjected  by  this  influence.  Hence  arises,  in  my  opinion,  a 
general  mistake  in  the  painting  of  this  condition ;    he  has 


1  T.  i.,  pp.  160—195. 


226  HISTORY   OF 

made  it  too  fine,  too  fixed,  and  too  powerful ;  he  has  not,  in 
the  least,  represented  its  weakness  and  approaching  fall. 

The  same  fauk  is  seen,  although  in  a  less  degree,  in  his 
history  of  the  Roman  law  itself,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth 
century  ;  it  is  complete  and  correct,  as  far  as  the  collection 
of  facts  goes  ;  but  the  facts  are  all  placed  there,  so  to  speak, 
upon  the  same  level ;  one  is  not  present  at  their  successive 
modifications,  one  does  not  perceive  the  Roman  law  transform 
Itself  in  proportion  as  the  new  society  is  developed.  No  moral 
concatenation  connects  these  so  learnedly  and  ingeniously  re- 
established facts.  Anatomical  dissection,  in  a  word,  is  the 
dominant  character  of  the  work ;  internal  organization  and 
external  life  are  alike  wanting  to  it. 

Reduced  to  its  true  nature,  as  a  criticism  of  material  facts, 
M.  de  Savigny's  book  is  original  and  excellent ;  it  ought  to 
serve  as  the  basis  of  all  studies  whose  subject  is  this  epoch, 
because  it  places  beyond  all  doubt  the  perpetuity  of  Roman 
law  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  and  thus  fully  re- 
solves the  problem  which  the  author  proposed  to  himself. 

Now  that  it  is  resolved,  one  is  surprised  that  this  problem 
should  ever  have  been  raised,  and  that  the  permanence  of 
the  Roman  law,  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  should  ever  have 
been  doubted.  Not  only  do  the  barbaric  laws  everywhere 
make  mention  of  the  Roman  laws,  but  there  is  scarcely  a 
single  document  or  act  of  this  epoch  which  does  not,  directly 
or  indirectly,  attest  their  daily  application.  Perhaps  the  error 
which  M.  de  Savigny  has  contested,  has  not  been  so  general 
nor  so  absolute  as  he  appears  to  suppose,  and  as  it  is  commonly 
said  to  be.  It  was  the  Pandects  which  reappeared  in  the 
twelfth  century ;  and  when  people  have  celebrated  the  resur- 
rection of  the  Roman  law  at  this  period,  it  is  above  all  of  the 
legislation  of  Justinian  that  they  have  spoken.  On  regarding 
more  closely,  one  will  perceive,  I  think,  that  the  perpetuity  of 
other  portions  of  the  Roman  law  in  the  west,  the  Theodosian 
code,  for  example,  and  of  all  the  collections  of  which  it  served 
for  the  basis,  has  not  been  so  entirely  departed  from,  as  the 
work  of  M.  de  Savigny  would  give  us  to  believe.  But  it 
matters  little ;  more  or  less  extended,  the  error  upon  this  sub- 
ject was  real,  and  M.  de  Savigny,  in  dissipating  it,  has  given 
a  prodigious  progress  to  knowledge. 

I  shall  now  place  before  you  the  principal  results  of  his 
Work,  but  I  shall  do  so  in  an  order  contrary  to  that  which  we 
have  followed  in  studying  the  German  laws.     We  commenced 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  227 

with  the  most  barbarous,  in  order  to  finish  with  tnose  in  which 
the  Roman  spirit  had  penetrated  the  deepest.  We  shall  now, 
on  the  contrary,  first  study  the  countries  where  the  Roman 
law  preserved  the  greatest  empire,  in  order  to  follow  it  in  the 
various  degrees  of  its  diminution  of  strength. 

It  follows  that  the  kingdom  of  the  Visigoths  is  the  first 
upon  which  we  have  to  occupy  ourselves.  It  was,  you  will 
recall  to  mind,  from  the  year  466  to  484  that  king  Euric, 
who  resided  at  Toulouse,  for  the  first  time  caused  the  cus- 
toms of  the  Goths  to  be  written.  In  506,  his  successor, 
Alaric  II.,  caused  the  laws  of  his  Roman  subjects  to  be  col- 
lected and  published  under  a  new  form.  We  read,  at  the 
beginning  of  some  of  the  manuscripts  of  this  collection,  the 
following  preface : — 

"In  this  volume  are  contained  the  laws  or  decisions  of 
equity,  selected  from  the  Theodosian  code  and  other  books, 
and  explained  as  has  been  ordered,  the  lord  king  Alaric  being 
in  the  twenty-second  year  of  his  reign,  the  illustrious  count 
Goiaric  presiding  at  this  work.  Copy  of  the  decree : — Letter 
of  advice  to  Timothy,  Viscount.  With  the  aid  of  God,  occu- 
pied with  the  interests  of  our  people,  we  have  corrected,  after 
mature  deliberation,  all  that  seemed  iniquitous  in  the  laws,  in 
such  manner  that,  by  the  labor  of  the  priests  and  other  noble- 
men, all  obscurity  in  the  Roman  and  in  our  own  ancient  laws 
is  dissipated,  and  a  greater  clearness  is  spread  over  it,  to  the 
end  that  nothing  may  remain  ambiguous,  and  offer  a  subject 
for  lengthened  controversies  for  pleaders.  All  these  laws, 
then,  being  explained  and  re-united  in  a  single  book  by  the 
choice  of  wise  men,  the  assent  of  venerable  bishops,  and  of 
our  provincial  subjects,  elected  with  this  view,  has  confirmed 
the  said  collection,  to  which  is  appended  a  clear  interpreta- 
tion. Our  Clemency,  then,  has  ordered  the  subscribed  book 
to  be  entrusted  to  count  Goiaric,  for  the  decision  of  affairs,  to 
the  end  that  hereafter  all  processes  may  be  terminated  accord- 
ing to  its  dispositions,  and  that  it  be  not  allowed  to  any  person 
to  put  forward  any  law  or  rule  of  equity,  unless  contained  in 
the  present  book,  subscribed,  as  we  have  ordered,  by  the  hand 
of  the  honorable  man  Anianus.  It  is,  therefore,  expedient 
that  thou  take  heed  that,  in  thy  jurisdiction  no  other  law  or 
form  be  alleged  or  admitted ;  if,  perchance,  such  a  thing 
•hould  happen,  it  shall  be  at  the  peril  of  thy  head,  or  at  the 
expense  of  thy  fortune.  We  order  that  this  prescript  be 
joined  to  the  book  that  we  send  thee,  to  the  end  that  the  rule 


228  HISTORY    OF 

of  our  will  and  the  fear  of  tne  penalty  may  restrain  all-oui 
subjects. 

" '  I,  Anianus,  honorable  man,  according  to  the  order  of 
the  very  glorious  king  Alaric,  have  subscribed  and  published 
this  volume  of  Theodosian  laws,  decisions  of  equity,  and  other 
books,  collected  at  Aire,  the  twenty-second  year  of  his  reign. 
We  have  collated  them. 

"  *■  Given  the  fourth  day  of  the  nones  of  February,  the 
twenty-second  year  of  the  reign  of  king  Alaric,  at  Tou- 
louse.' " 

This  preface  contains  all  we  know  concern  .jig  the  history 
of  the  digestion  of  this  code.  I  have  a  few  explanations  to 
add  to  it.  Goiaric  was  the  count  of  the  palace,  charged  with 
the  superintendence  of  its  execution  throughout  the  kingdom  ; 
Anianus,  in  quality  of  referendary,  was  to  subscribe  the  va- 
rious copies  of  it,  and  send  them  to  the  provincial  counts ; 
Timothy  is  one  of  these  counts.  The  greater  part  of  the 
manuscripts  being  but  copies  made  for  private  purposes,  give 
neither  the  preface  nor  any  letter.  The  collection  of  Alaric 
contains :  1st,  the  Theodosian  code  (sixteen  books) ;  2d,  the 
books  of  civil  law  of  the  emperor  Theodosius,  Valentinian, 
Marcian,  Majorian,  and  Severus ;  3d,  the  Institutes  of  Ga'ius, 
the  jurisconsult ;  4th,  five  books  of  Paul,  the  jurisconsult, 
entitled  Receptee  Sententia  ;  5th,  the  Gregorian  code  (thirteen 
titles)  ;  6th,  the  Hermoginian  code  (2  titles)  ;  7th,  and  lastly, 
a  passage  from  the  work  of  Papinian,  entitled  Liber  Respon- 
sorum. 

The  Constitutions  and  Novels  of  the  emperors  are  called 
Leges  ;  the  works  of  the  jurisconsults,  including  the  Gregorian 
and  Hermoginian  codes,  which  did  not  emanate  from  any  offi- 
cial or  public  power,  bear  simply  the  name  of  Jus.  This  is 
the  distinction  between  law  and  jurisprudence. 

The  whole  collection  was  called  Lex  Romana,  and  not 
Brevianum ;  the  latter  name  was  unknown  before  the  six- 
teenth century.1  Of  the  Brevianum  Alaricianum,  there  is  but 
one  separate  edition,  published  in  1528,  at  Basle,  by  Sichard. 
It  has  besides  this  been  inserted,  sometimes  partially  and 
sometimes  entire,  in  the  various  editions  of  the  Theodosian 
code. 


1  In  the  preceding  lecture  it  is  said  that  Alaric  caused  the  laws  of 
nis  Roman  subjects  to  be  collected  and  published  under  the  name  of 
Previarium.     This  is  an  oversight. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCr.  229 

It  is  divided  into  two  essential  parts  :  1st,  a  text  or  abstract 
of  the  sources  of  the  law  which  I  have  just  enumerated;  2d, 
an  interpretation.  The  Institutes  of  Gaius  is  the  only  worli 
in  wnich  the  interpretation  and  the  text  are  fused  in  one. 

The  text  is  merely  the  reproduction  of  the  original  text,  it 
is  nor  afways  complete ;  all  ihe  imperial  constitutions,  for  ex- 
ample, are  not  inserted  in  the  Breviarium  ;  but  those  which  it 
did  produce  are  not  mutilated.  There  the  ancient  law  appears 
in  all  its  purity,  independent  of  the  changes  which  the  fall  oi 
the  Empire  must  have  introduced  into  it.  The  Interpretation, 
on  the  contrary,  digested  in  the  time  of  Alaric  by  civil  or 
ecclesiastical  jurisconsults,  whom  he  had  charged  with  this 
work,  takes  cognizance  of  all  these  changes  ;  it  explains,  mo- 
difies, and  sometimes  positively  alters  the  text,  in  order  to 
adapt  it  to  the  new  state  of  the  government  and  of  society ;  it 
is,  therefore,  for  the  study  of  the  institutions  and  Roman  laws 
of  this  epoch,  more  important  and  curious  than  the  text  itself. 
The  mere  existence  of  such  a  work  is  the  most  clear  and  con- 
clusive proof  of  the  perpetuity  of  Roman  law.  One  need, 
indeed,  scarcely  open  it.  Should  we  open  it,  however,  we 
shall  everywhere  find  the  trace  of  the  Roman  society,  of  its 
institutions  and  magistrates,  as  well  as  of  its  civil  legislation. 
The  municipal  system  occupies  an  important  place  in  the  In- 
terpretation of  the  Breviarium ;  the  curia  and  its  magistrates, 
the  duumvirs,  the  defensores,  &c,  recur  at  every  step,  and 
attest  that  the  Roman  municipality  still  subsisted  and  acted. 
And  not  only  did  it  subsist,  but  it  acquired  more  importance 
and  independence.  At  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  the  governors 
of  the  Roman  provinces,  the  presides,  the  consulares,  the  cor- 
rectors, disappeared  ;  in  their  place  we*  find  the  barbarian 
counts.  But  all  the  attributes  of  the  Roman  governors  did 
not  pass  to  the  counts ;  they  made  a  kind  of  partition  of 
them  ;  some  belonged  to  the  counts  ;  and  these,  in  general, 
were  those  in  which  the  central  power  was  interested,  such 
as  the  levying  of  taxes,  men,  &c. ;  the  others,  those  which 
only  concerned  the  private  life  of  the  citizens,  passed  to  the 
curise  and  the  municipal  magistrates.  I  have  not  cared  to 
enumerate  all  these  changes ;  but  here  are  some  examples 
drawn  from  the  Interpretation. 

1st.  That  which  was  formerly  done  by  the  proetor  (alibi  the 

{•resident)  shall  now  be  executed  by  the  judges  of  the  city.— 
nterp.  Paul,  1,  7,  §  2  j  Int.  C.  Th.,  xi.,  4,  2. 


230  HISTOKY   OF 

2d.  Emancipation,  which  has  usually  been  done  before  the 
president,  must  now  be  done  before  the  curia. — Gaius  1,  6. 

3d.  Guardians  were  nominated  at  Constantinople  by  the 
prefect  of  the  town,  ten  senators,  and  the  prastor.  The  Inter- 
pretation puts  in  their  place  "  the  first  of  the  city  with  the 
judge"  (probably  the  duumvir). — Int.  C.  Th.,  iii.,  17,  3. 

5th.  Wills  must  be  opened  in  the  curia. — Interp.  C.  Th., 
iv.,  4,  4. 

Cases  of  this  kind  are  numerous,  and  do  not  allow  of  a 
doubt,  but  that,  so  far  from  perishing  with  the  Empire,  the 
municipal  system  acquired  long  after  the  invasion,  at  least  in 
Southern  Gaul,  more  extension  and  liberty. 

A  second  considerable  change  is  also  visible.  In  the  an- 
cient Roman  municipality,  the  superior  magistrates,  the  du- 
umvir, the  quinquennalis,  &c,  exercised  their  jurisdiction  as 
a  personal  right,  not  by  any  means  by  way  of  delegation,  or 
in  quality  of  representatives  of  ?he  curia ;  it  was  to  them- 
selves,  not  to  the  municipal  body,  that  the  power  apper- 
tained. The  principal  of  the  municipal  system  was  more 
aristocratical  than  democratical.  Such  was  the  result  of  the 
ancient  Roman  manners,  and  especially  of  the  primitive 
amalgamation  of  the  religious  and  political  powers  in  the  su- 
perior magistrates. 

In  the  Breviarium  the  aspect  of  the  municipal  system 
changes ;  it  was  no  longer  in  its  own  name,  it  was  in  the 
name  and  as  the  delegate  of  the  curise  that  the  defensor  ex- 
ercised his  power.  The  jurisdiction  belonged  to  the  curia  in 
a  body.  The  principle  of  its  organization  became  democrati- 
cal ;  and  already  the  transformation  was  in  preparation,  which 
was  to  make  of  the  Roman  municipality  the  corporation  of 
the  middle  ages. 

These  are  the  principal  results  of  M.  de  Savigny's  worK, 
with  regard  to  the  permanence  of  Roman  law  under  the  Visi- 
goths. I  hardly  know  whether  he  has  measured  its  whole 
extent  and  all  its  consequences  in  the  history  of  modern 
society,  but  he  has  certainly  caught  glimpses  of  it ;  and  in 
general  his  ideas  are  as  precise  as  his  learning  is  correct 
and  extensive.  Of  all  German  savans  who  have  occupied 
themselves  on  this  subject,  he  is  certainly  the  most  exempt 
from  all  German  prejudices,  who  least  allows  himself  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  desire  to  enlarge  upon  the  power  of  the 
ancient  German  institutions  and  manners  in  modern  civi- 
.ization,  and  who  makes  the  Roman  element  constitute  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  231 

Detter  part.  Sometimes,  however,  the  prepossession  of  the 
national  spirit,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  has  still  deceived 
him,  and  of  this  I  will  cite  a  single  example.  He  says  at 
the  end  of  the  chapter  upon  the  municipal  system  under  the 
Visigoths : — 

"  The  text  of  the  Code  orders  that  at  Rome,  in  order  to 
pronounce  upon  a  criminal  accusation  against  a  senator,  five- 
senators  be  appointed  by  lot :  the  Interpretation  renders  this 
rule  general,  and  requires  five  of  the  principal  citizens  of  the 
same  rank  as  the  accused,  that  is  to  say,  decurions  or  plebeian, 
according  to  the  condition  of  the  accused  himself.  .  .  .  May  wo 
not  here  conjecture  the  influence  of  the  German  Scabini  Vn 

Thus  M.  de  Savigny  supposes  that,  according  to  the  Inter- 
pretation of  the  Breviarium,  the  judges  drawn  by  lot,  in 
criminal  matters,  were,  under  the  Visigoths  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, to  be  of  the  same  condition  as  the  accused,  that  every 
man  was  to  be  judged  by  his  peers  ;  for  it  is  thus  that  they 
commonly  digest  the  principle  of  the  institution  of  the  jury, 
according  to  German  manners.  Here  is  the  Latin  sentence 
upon  which  this  induction  is  founded. 

"  Cum  pro  objecto  crimine,  aliquis  audiendus  est,  quinque 
nobilissimi  viri  judices,  de  reliquis  sibi  similibus,  missis  sortibus 
eligantur." 

That  is  to  say  : 

"  If  any  one  be  cited  to  appear  on  accusation  of  crime,  let 
five  nobles  be  appointed  by  lot,  from  among  co-equals,  to  be 
judges  ' 

These  words,  de  reliquis  sibi  similibus,  evidently  signify 
that  the  five  judges  shall  be  drawn  by  lot  from  the  same  class, 
and  not  from  the  class  of  the  accused.  There  is,  therefore, 
no  trace  iu  it  of  the  idea  that  the  judges  must  be  of  the  same 
rank  and  condition  of  the  accused.  The  words  nobilissimi 
viri  might  have  convinced  M.  de  Savigny,  and  prevented  his 
error  :  how,  indeed,  can  they  apply  to  plebeian  judges  ? 

Let  us  pass  from  the  Visigoths  to  the  Burgundians,  and  see 
what  was  the  state  of  the  Roman  legislation  at  the  same  epoch, 
among  the  latter. 

The  preface  to  their  law  contains,  as  you  will  recollect, 
this  sentence  : 

"  We  order  that  Romans  be  judged  according  to  Roman 


*  Yol.  i.,  p.  265.  *  IntcrD.  Cod.  Th.,  xi.,  1,  13. 


282  HISTORY    OF 

laws,  as  was  done  by  our  ancestors,  and  that  they  receive  it 
writing  the  form  and  tenor  of  the  laws  according  to  which 
they  shall  be  judged,  to  the  end  that  no  person  can  excuse 
himself  upon  the  score  of  ignorance." 

The  Burgundian  Sigismond,  therefore,  intended  to  do  in 
517,  what  Alaric,  the  Visigoth,  had  done  eleven  years  before, 
to  collect  the  Roman  laws  for  his  Roman  subjects. 

In  15G6,  Cujas  found  in  a  manuscript  a  law  work  which  he 
published  under  the  title  of  Papiani  Responsum,  or  Liber 
Responsorum,  and  which  has  always  since  borne  that  name. 
It  is  divided  into  47  or  48  titles,  and  offers  the  following 
characteristics  : 

1st.  The  order  and  heading  of  the  titles  corresponds  almost 
exactly  with  those  of  the  barbaric  law  of  the  Burgundians  ; 
title  II.  de  homicidiis,  to  title  II.  de  homicidiis ;  title  III.  de 
libertatibus,  to  title  III.  de  libertatibus  servorum  nostrorum, 
and  so  on.  M.  de  Savigny  has  drawn  up  a  comparative  view 
of  the  two  laws,1  and  the  correlativeness  is  evident. 

2d.  We  read  in  title  II.  of  this  work,  de  homicidiis : 

"  And  as  it  is  very  clear  that  the  Roman  law  has  regulated 
nothing  concerning  the  value  of  men  killed,  our  lord  has 
ordered  that  according  to  the  quality  of  the  slave,  the  mur 
derer  shall  pay  to  his  master  the  following  sums,  namely  : 

For  an  intend  ant, 100  solidi 

For  a  personal  servant, 60 

For  a  laborer  or  swineherd, 30 

For  a  good  gold- worker, 100 

For  a  smith, 50 

For  a  carpenter, 40 

"  This  must  be  observed  according  to  the  order  of  the  king." 

The  enumeration  and  the  composition,  under  the  corre- 
sponding title,  are  the  same  in  the  law  of  the  Burgundians. 

3d.  Lastly,  two  titles  of  the  first  supplement  of  this  law 
(tit.  I.  and  XIX.)  are  textually  borrowed  from  the  Papiani 
Responsum,  published  by  Cujas. 

It  is  evident  that  this  work  is  no  other  than  the  law  pro- 
claimed  by  Sigismond  to  his  Roman  subjects,  at  the  time  that 
ae  published  the  law  of  his  barbaric  subjects. 

Whence  comes  the  title  of  this  law  ?  Why  is  it  called 
■     ii  ■    i  i 

1  Vol.  ii.,  pp.  13—16. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  233 

Papiani  Responsum  ?  Is  it,  in  fact,  a  repetition  of  a  work 
of  Papinianus,  often  called  Papian  by  the  manuscripts  ? 
Nothing  is  less  probable.  M.  de  Savigny  has  very  inge- 
niously resolved  this  question.  He  conjectures  that  Cujas 
found  the  manuscript  of  the  Roman  law  of  the  Burgundians 
at  the  end  of  a  manuscript  of  the  Breviarium  of  Alaric,  with- 
out marking  the  separation  of  the  two  works ;  and  that  the 
Breviarium  finishing  by  a  passage  of  the  Liber  Responsorum 
of  Papinianus,  Cujas  has  inadvertently  ascribed  this  passage 
and  given  this  title  to  the  work  following.  The  examination 
of  many  manuscripts  confirms  this  conjecture,  and  Cujas 
himself  was  doubtful  of  error. 

As  the  Breviarium  of  Alaric  preceded  the  law  of  the  Roman 
Burgundians  by  only  a  few  years,  some  people  have  supposed 
the  latter  to  be  merely  an  abstract  of  it.  This  is  an  error. 
Much  more  brief  and  incomplete  than  the  Breviarium,  the 
Papiani  Responsum,  since  it  keeps  that  name,  has  still,  more 
than  once,  drawn  from  the  sources  of  the  Roman  law,  and 
furnishes  upon  this  point  many  important  indications. 

It  probably  fell  into  disuse  when  the  kingdom  of  the  Bur- 
gundians fell  under  the  yoke  of  the  Franks.  Everything 
indicates  that  the  Breviarium  of  Alaric,  more  extensive  and 
better  satisfying  to  the  various  wants  of  civil  life,  progres- 
sively replaced  it,  and  became  the  law  of  the  Romans  in  all 
the  countries  of  Gaul  that  the  Burgundians,  as  well  as  the 
Visigoths,  had  possessed. 

The  Franks  remain  to  be  considered.  When  they  had  con- 
quered, or  almost  conquered  the  whole  of  Gaul,  the  Brevia- 
rium, and,  for  some  time  also,  the  Papian,  continued  in  vigor 
in  the  countries  where  they  had  formerly  prevailed.  But  in 
the  north  and  north-east  of  Gaul,  in  the  first  settlements  of  the 
Franks,  the  situation  was  different.  We  there  find  nothing 
of  a  new  Roman  code,  no  attempt  to  collect  and  digest  the 
Roman  law  for  the  ancient  inhabitants.  It  is  certain,  how- 
ever, that  it  continued  to  rule  them ;  here  are  the  principal 
facts  which  do  not  admit  of  a  doubt  of  this. 

1st.  The  Salic  and  Ripuarian  laws  continually  repeat  that 
the  Romans  shall  be  judged  according  to  the  Roman  law. 
Many  decrees  of  the  Frank  kings — among  others,  a  decree  oi 
Clotaire  I.,  in  560,  and  one  of  Childebert  II.,  in  595,  renew 
this  injunction,  and  borrow  from  the  Roman  law  some  of  its 
provisions.  The  legislative  monuments  of  the  Franks,  there- 
fore,  attest  its  perpetuity. 


234  HISTORY   OF 

2d.  A  different  kind  of  monuments,  no  less  authentic,  like* 
wise  prove  it.  Many  of  you  know  the  formulae,  or  models  of 
forms,  according  to  which,  from  the  sixth  to  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, the  principal  acts  of  civil  life,  wills,  bequests,  enfran- 
chisements,  sales,  &c,  were  drawn  up.  The  principal 
collection  of  formulae  is  that  published  by  Marculf  the  monk, 
towards  the  end,  as  it  seems,  of  the  eighth  century.  Many 
men  of  learning — Mabillon,  Bignon,  Sirmond,  and  Linden- 
brog — have  recovered  others  of  them  from  old  manuscripts. 
A  large  number  of  these  formulae  reproduced,  in  the  same 
terms,  the  ancient  forms  of  Roman  law  concerning  the  en- 
franchisement of  slaves,  bequests,  testaments,  prescriptions, 
&c,  and  thus  prove  that  it  was  still  of  habitual  application. 

3d.  All  the  monuments  of  this  epoch,  in  the  countries 
occupied  by  the  Franks,  are  full  of  the  names  of  the  Roman 
municipal  system — duumvirs,  advocates,  curia,  and  curial, 
and  present  these  institutions  as  always  in  vigor. 

4th.  Many  civil  acts,  in  fact,  exist,  testaments,  bequests, 
sales,  &c,  which  passed  according  to  the  Roman  law  in  the 
curia,  and  were  so  inscribed  upon  the  registers. 

5th.  Lastly,  the  chroniclers  of  the  time  often  speak  of  men 
versed  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Roman  law,  and  who  make 
an  attentive  study  of  it.  In  the  sixth  century,  the  Auvergnat 
Andarchius  "  was  very  learned  in  the  works  of  Virgil,  the 
books  of  the  Theodosian  law,  and  in  the  art  of  calculation."1 
At  the  end  of  the  seventh  century,  Saint  Bonet,  bishop  ot 
Clermont,  "  was  imbued  with  the  principles  of  the  grammari- 
ans, and  learned  in  the  decrees  of  Theodosius."*  Saint 
JJidier,  bishop  of  Cahors,  from  629  to  654,  "  applied  himself," 
Kays  his  life  in  manuscript,  "  to  the  study  of  the  Roman 
laws." 

Of  a  surety  there  were  then  no  erudits  ;  there  was  then  nc 
A.cade"mie  des  Inscriptions,  and  people  did  not  study  the 
Roman  law  for  mere  curiosity.  There  can,  then,  be  nc 
reason  for  doubting  that  among  the  Franks,  as  well  as  among 
the  Burgundians  and  Visigoths,  it  continued  in  vigor,  particu- 
larly in  the  civil  legislation  and  in  the  municipal  system. 
Those  among  you  who  would  seek  the  proofs  in  detail,  the 
original  texts  upon  which  the  results  which  I  have  just  stated 
are  founded,  will  find  a  large  number  of  them  in  the  work  of 


1  Greg,  of  Tours,  1.  4,  c.  47.  a  Acta  sane  Juana,  c.  1,  No.  3. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  235 

M.  de  Savigny  (vol.  i.,  p.  267—273;  vol.  ii.,  p.  100—118), 
and  still  more  in  the  Histoire  du  Regime  Municipal  de  France, 
published  by  M.  Raynouard — a  work  replete  with  curious 
researches,  researches  so  complete  upon  certain  questions 
that,  in  truth,  one  might  almost  tax  them  with  superfluity. 

You  see  the  fact  which  I  proposed  to  bring  forward  is  indu- 
bitable. Monuments  of  all  kinds  show  it,  doubtless  in  unequal 
degrees  among  different  nations,  but  everywhere  real  and 
permanent.  Its  importance  is  great,  because  it  proclaimed  to 
Gaul  a  social  state  entirely  different  from  that  in  which  it  had 
hitherto  lived.  It  was  hardly  more  than  five  centuries  since 
it  had  fallen  beneath  the  power  of  the  Romans,  and  already 
scarcely  a  trace  of  the  ancient  Gaulish  society  remained. 
Roman  civilization  had  the  terrible  power  of  extirpating  the 
national  laws,  manners,  language,  and  religion — of  fully  assi- 
milating its  conquests  to  itself.  All  absolute  expressions  are 
exaggerated ;  still,  in  considering  things  in  general  at  the 
sixth  century,  we  may  say,  everything  in  Gaul  was  Roman. 
The  contrary  fact  accompanies  barbaric  conquest :  the  Ger- 
mans leave  to  the  conquered  population  their  laws,  local  insti- 
tutions, language,  and  religion.  An  invincible  unity  followed 
in  the  steps  of  the  Romans :  here,  on  the  contrary,  diversity 
was  established  by  the  consent  and  aid  of  the  conquerors. 
We  have  seen  that  the  empire  of  personality  and  individual 
independence,  the  characteristic  of  modern  civilization,  was  of 
German  origin ;  we  here  find  its  influence  ;  the  idea  of  per- 
sonality  presided  in  laws  as  in  actions ;  the  individuality  of 
peoples,  while  subject  to  the  same  political  domination,  was 
proclaimed  like  that  of  man.  Centuries  must  pass  before  the 
notion  of  territory  can  overcome  that  of  race,  before  personal 
legislation  can  become  real,  and  before  a  new  national  unity 
can  result  from  the  slow  and  laborious  fusion  of  the  various 
elements. 

This  granted,  and  the  perpetuity  of  Roman  legislation 
being  established,  still  do  not  let  this  word  deceive  you :  there 
is  in  it  a  great  deal  that  is  illusory ;  because  it  has  been  seen 
that  the  Roman  law  continued,  because  the  same  names  and 
forms  have  been  met  with,  it  has  been  concluded  that  the 
principles,  that  the  spirit  of  the  laws  had  also  remained  the 
same :  the  Roman  law  of  the  tenth  century  has  been  spoken 
of  as  that  of  the  Empire.  This  is  erroneous  language; 
when  Alaric  and  Sigismond  ordered  a  new  collection  of  the 
Roman  laws  for  the  use  of  their  Roman  subjects,  they  did 


236  HISTORY    OF 

exactly  what  had  elsewhere  been  done  by  Theodoric  and 
Dagobert,  in  causing  the  barbaric  laws  to  be  digested  for  theh 
Frank  subjects.  As  the  Salic  and  Ripuarian  laws  s  it  forth 
ancient  customs,  already  ill  suited  to  the  new  state  of  the 
German  people,  so  the  Breviarium  of  Alaric  and  the  Papiani 
Responsum  collected  laws  already  old,  and  partly  inapplica- 
ble. By  the  fall  of  the  Empire  and  by  the  invasion,  the 
whole  social  order  was  entirely  changed  ;  the  relations  be- 
tween men  were  different,  and  another  system  of  property 
commenced ;  the  Roman  political  institutions  could  not  sub- 
sist ;  facts  of  all  sorts  were  renewed  over  the  whole  face  of 
the  land.  And  what  laws  were  given  to  this  rising  society,  so 
disordered  and  yet  so  fertile  ?  Two  ancient  laws :  the  ancient 
barbarous  customs  and  the  ancient  Roman  legislation.  It  is 
evident  that  neither  could  be  suitable  ;  both  must  be  modified, 
must  be  profoundly  metamorphosed,  in  order  to  be  adapted  to 
the  new  facts. 

When,  therefore,  we  say  that  at  the  sixth  century  the 
Roman  law  still  lasted,  and  that  the  barbarous  laws  were 
written  ;  when  we  find  in  posterior  centuries  always  the  same 
words,  Roman  law,  and  barbaric  laws,  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  the  same  laws  are  spoken  of.  In  perpetuating  itself,  the 
Roman  law  altered  ;  after  having  been  written,  the  barbaric 
laws  were  perverted.  Both  are  among  the  number  of  the 
essential  elements  of  modern  society ;  but  as  elements  enter- 
ing into  a  new  combination,  which  will  arise  after  a  long  fer- 
mentation, and  in  the  breast  of  which  they  will  only  appear 
transformed. 

It  is  this  successive  transformation  that  I  shall  attempt  to 
present  to  you  ;  historians  do  not  speak  of  it ;  unvarying 
phrases  hide  it ;  it  is  an  internal  work,  a  profoundly  secret 
spectacle  ;  and  at  which  one  can  only  arrive  by  piercing 
many  inclosures,  and  guarding  against  the  illusion  caused  by 
the  similitude  of  forms  and  names. 

We  now  find  ourselves  at  the  end  of  our  researches  con- 
cerning the  state  of  civil  society  in  Gaul,  from  the  sixth  tc 
the  middle  of  the  eighth  century.  In  our  next  lecture,  we 
shall  study  the  changes  which  happened  in  the  religious 
society  at  the  same  epoch,  that  is  to  say,  the  state  and  consti- 
tution  of  the  church. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  237 


TWELFTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — State  of  the  church  in  Gaul,  from  the  sixth  to 
the  middle  of  the  eighth  century — Analogy  between  the  primitive 
state  of  the  religious  society  and  the  civil  society — The  unity  of  the 
church  or  the  spiritual  society — Two  elements  or  conditions  of 
spiritual  society  ;  1st  Unity  of  truth,  that  is  to  say,  of  absolute  iea- 
son ;  2d.  Liberty  of  minds,  or  individual  reason — State  of  these  two 
ideas  in  the  Christian  church,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century 
— She  adopts  one  and  rejects  the  other — Unity  of  the  church  in 
legislation — General  councils — Difference  between  the  eastern  and 
the  western  church  as  regards  the  persecution  of  heretics — Relations 
of  the  church  with  the  state,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century : 
1st,  in  the  eastern  empire  ;  2d,  in  the  west,  especially  in  Frankish 
Gaul — Interference  of  the  temporal  power  in  the  affairs  of  the 
church — Of  the  spiritual  power  in  the  affairs  of  the  state — Recapitu- 
lation. 

We  re-enter  a  route  over  which  we  have  already  gone ;  we 
again  take  up  a  thread  which  we  have  once  held :  we  have 
to  occupy  ourselves  with  the  history  of  the  Christian  church 
in  Gaul,  from  the  completion  of  the  invasion  to  the  fall  of  the 
Merovingian  kings,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  sixth  to  the  middle 
of  the  eighth  century. 

The  determination  of  this  epoch  is  not  arbitrary ;  the  acces- 
sion of  the  Carlovingian  kings  marked  a  crisis  in  religious 
society  as  well  as  in  civil  society.  It  is  a  date  which  consti- 
tutes an  era,  and  at  which  it  is  advisable  to  pause. 

Recall  the  picture  which  I  have  traced  of  the  state  of  the 
religious  society  in  Gaul,  before  the  decisive  fall  of  the  Roman 
empire,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fifth  century.  We  have  considered  the  church 
under  two  points  of  view  :  1st,  in  her  external  situation,  in. 
her  relations  with  the  state ;  2d,  in  her  internal  constitution, 
in  her  social  and  political  organization.  Around  these  two 
fundamental  problems  we  have  seen  that  all  the  particular 
questions,  all  the  facts  collect. 

This  two-fold  examination  has  enabled  us  to  see,  in  the 
first  five  centuries  of  the  church,  the  germ  of  all  the  solutions 
of  the  two  problems,  some  example  of  all  the  forms,  and  trials 
of  all  the  combinations.     There  is  no  system,  whether  in  re* 

25 


238  HISTORY    OF 

gard  to  the  external  relations  of  the  church,  or  her  interna, 
organization,  which  may  not  be  traced  to  this  epoch,  and 
there  find  some  authority.  Independence,  obedience,  sove- 
reignty, the  compromises  of  the  church  with  the  state, 
presbyterianism  or  episcopacy,  the  complete  absence  of  the 
clergy,  or  its  almost  exclusive  domination,  we  have  found  all 
these. 

We  have  just  examined  the  state  of  civil  society  after  the 
invasion,  in  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  and  we  have 
arrived  at  the  same  result.  There,  likewise,  we  have  found 
the  germ,  the  example  of  all  the  systems  of  social  organization, 
and  of  government :  monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy  ; 
the  assemblies  of  free  men  ;  the  patronage  of  the  chief  of  the 
land  towards  his  warriors,  of  the  great  proprietor  towards  the 
inferior  proprietor,  royalty,  absolute  and  impotent,  elective 
and  hereditary,  barbarous,  imperial,  and  religious:  all  the 
principles,  in  a  word,  which  have  been  developed  in  the  life 
of  modern  Europe,  at  that  time  simultaneously  appeared 
to  us. 

There  is  a  remarkable  similarity  in  the  origin  and  primi- 
tive state  of  the  two  societies :  wealth  and  confusion  are  alike 
in  them  ;  all  things  are  there  ;  none  in  its  place  and  propor- 
tion ;  order  will  come  with  development ;  in  being  developed, 
the  various  elements  will  be  disengaged  and  distinguished  j 
each  will  display  its  pretensions  and  its  own  powers,  first  in 
order  to  combat,  and  afterwards  to  become  reconciled.  Such 
will  be  the  progressive  work  of  ages  and  of  man. 

It  is  at  this  work  that  we  have  hereafter  to  be  present ;  we 
nave  seen  in  the  cradle  of  the  two  societies  all  the  material 
elements,  and  all  the  rational  principles  of  modern  civilization  ; 
we  are  about  to  follow  them  in  their  struggles,  negotiations, 
amalgamations,  and  in  all  the  vicissitudes  both  of  their  special 
and  their  common  destiny  This,  properly  speaking,  is  the 
history  of  civilization ;  we  have  as  yet  only  arrived  at  the 
theatre  of  this  history,  and  named  its  actors. 

You  will  not  be  surprised  that  in  entering  upon  a  new  era 
we  should  first  encounter  the  religious  society :  it  was,  as  you 
are  aware,  the  most  advanced  and  the  strongest ;  whether  in 
the  Roman  municipality,  in  the  palace  of  the  barbarous 
kings,  or  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  conquerors  now  become  pro- 
prietors, we  have  everywhere  recognized  the  presence  and 
influence  of  the  heads  of  the  church.  From  the  fourth  to  the 
.hirteenth  century,  it  was  the  church  that  took  the  lead  in  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  23ft 

career  of  civilization.  It  is  natural,  then,  that,  during  this 
period,  every  time  that  we  have  made  a  halt,  and  again  moved 
forward,  it  should  be  with  her  that  we  recommence. 

We  shall  study  her  history  from  +he  sixth  to  the  eighth 
century,  under  the  two  points  of  view  already  indicated  ; 
1st,  in  her  relations  with  the  state ;  2dly,  in  her  peculiar  and 
internal  constitution. 

But  before  approaching  either  of  these  questions,  and  the 
facts  which  are  attached  thereto,  I  must  call  your  attention  to 
a  fact  which  dominates  over  all,  which  characterizes  the 
Christian  church  in  general,  and  has,  as  it  were,  decided  her 
destiny. 

This  fact  is  the  unity  of  the  church,  the  unity  of  the  Chris- 
tian society,  despite  all  the  diversities  of  time,  place,  domina- 
tion, language,  or  origin. 

Singular  phenomenon  !  It  was  at  the  very  time  that  the 
Roman  empire  fell  to  pieces  and  disappeared,  that  the  Chris- 
tian church  rallied,  and  definitively  formed  herself.  Poli- 
tical unity  perished,  religious  unity  arose.  I  know  not  how 
many  nations,  of  various  origins,  manners,  language,  and 
destiny,  are  thrown  upon  the  scene  ;  all  becomes  partial  and 
local ;  every  extended  idea,  every  general  institution,  every 
great  social  combination  vanishes ;  and  at  this  Very  moment 
the  Christian  church  proclaims  the  unity  of  her  doctrine,  the 
universality  of  her  right. 

This  is  a  glorious  and  powerful  fact,  and  one  which,  from 
the  fifth  to  the  thirteenth  century,  has  rendered  immense 
services  to  humanity.  The  mere  fact  of  the  unity  of  the 
church,  maintained  some  tie  between  countries  and  nations 
that  everything  else  tended  to  separate ;  under  its  influence, 
some  general  notions,  some  sentiments  of  a  vast  sympathy 
continued  to  be  developed ;  and  from  the  very  heart  of  the 
most  frightful  political  confusion  that  the  world  has  ever 
known,  arose  perhaps  the  most  extensive  and  the  purest  idea 
that  has  ever  rallied  mankind,  the  idea  of  spiritual  society ; 
for  that  is  the  philosophical  name  of  the  church,  the  type 
which  she  wished  to  realize. 

What  sense  did  men,  at  this  period,  attach  to  these  words, 
and  what  progress  had  they  already  made  in  this  path  ? 
What  was  actually,  in  minds  and  in  facts,  this  spiritual  socie- 
y,  the  object  of  their  ambition  and  respect  ?  How  was  it 
conceived  and  practised  ?  These  questions  must  be  ajaswered 
in  order  to  know  what  is  meant  when  we  speak  of  the  unity 


240  HISTORY   OF 

of  the  church,  and  what  ought  to  be  thought  of  its  principle! 
and  results. 

A  common  conviction,  that  is  to  say,  an  identical  idea, 
acknowledged  and  received  as  true,  is  the  fundamental  basis, 
the  secret  tie  of  human  society.  One  may  stop  at  the  most 
confined  and  the  most  simple  association,  or  elevate  oneself 
to  the  most  complicated  and  extensive ;  we  may  examine 
what  passes  between  three  or  four  barbarians  united  for  a 
hunting  expedition,  or  in  the  midst  of  an  assembly  convoked 
to  treat  of  the  affairs  of  a  great  nation ;  everywhere,  and 
under  all  circumstances,  it  is  in  the  adhesion  of  individuals  to 
the  same  thought,  that  the  fact  of  association  essentially 
consists :  so  long  as  they  do  not  comprehend  one  another, 
they  are  mere  isolated  beings,  placed  by  the  side  of  one 
another,  but  not  holding  together.  A  similar  sentiment 
and  doctrine,  whatever  may  be  its  nature  or  object,  is  the 
first  condition  of  the  social  state ;  it  is  in  the  midst  of 
truth  only,  or  in  what  they  take  for  truth,  that  men  become 
united,  and  that  society  takes  birth.  And  in  this  sense,  a 
modern  philosopher1  was  right  in  saying  that  there  is  no 
society  except  between  intellects ;  that  society  only  subsists 
upon  points  and  within  limits,  where  the  union  of  intellects  is 
accomplished ;  that  where  intellects  have  nothing  in  common, 
there  is  no  society ;  in  other  words,  that  intellectual  society  is 
the  only  society,  the  necessary  element,  and,  as  it  were,  the 
foundation  of  all  external  and  visible  associations. 

Now,  the  essential  element  of  truth,  and  precisely  what  is, 
in  fact,  the  social  tie,  par  excellence,  is  unity.  Truth  is  one, 
therefore  the  men  who  have  acknowledged  and  accepted  it 
are  united ;  a  union  which  has  in  it  nothing  accidental  nor 
arbitrary,  for  truth  neither  depends  upon  the  accidents  of 
things,  nor  upon  the  uncertainties  of  men ;  nothing  transitory, 
for  truth  is  eternal ;  nothing  confined,  for  truth  is  complete 
and  infinite.  As  of  truth,  unity  then  will  be  the  essential 
characteristic  of  the  society  which  shall  have  truth  alone  for 
its  object,  that  is  to  say,  of  the  purely  religious  society. 
There  is  not,  there  cannot  be,  two  spiritual  societies ;  it  is, 
from  its  nature,  sole  and  universal. 

Thus  did  the  church  take  birth :  hence  that  unity  which 
she  proclaims  as  her  principle,  that  universality  which  has 


1  M.  l'Abbe  de  Lamennais. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FEANCE.  241 

always  been  her  ambition.  In  degrees  more  or  less  evident, 
and  more  or  less  strict,  it  is  the  idea  which  rests  at  the  bottom 
of  all  her  doctrines,  which  hovers  over  all  her  works.  Long 
before  the  sixth  century,  from  the  very  cradle  of  Christianity, 
it  appears  in  the  writings  and  acts  of  its  most  illustrious  inter- 
ureters. 

But  unity  of  truth  in  itself  is  not  sufficient  for  the  rise  and 
subsistence  of  the  religious  society ;  it  is  necessary  that  it 
should  be  evident  to  minds,  and  that  it  should  rally  them. 
Union  of  minds,  that  is  to  say,  spiritual  society,  is  the  conse- 
quence of  the  unity  of  truth  ;  but  so  long  as  this  union  is  not 
accomplished,  the  principle  wants  its  consequence,  spiritual 
society  does  not  exist.  Now,  upon  what  condition  do  minds 
unite  themselves  in  truth  ?  Upon  this  condition,  that  they 
acknowledge  and  accept  its  empire :  whoever  obeys  truth  with- 
out knowing  it,  from  ignorance  and  not  from  light,  or  who- 
ever, having  knowledge  of  the  truth,  refuses  to  obey  it,  is 
not  part  of  the  spiritual  society ;  none  form  a  part  of  it  if 
they  do  not  see  nor  wish  it ;  it  excludes,  on  one  side,  igno- 
rance, and  on  the  other,  constraint  ;  it  exacts  from  all  its 
members  an  intimate  and  personal  adhesion  of  intellect  and 
liberty. 

Now,  at  the  epoch  upon  which  we  are  occupied,  this  second 
principle,  this  second  characteristic  of  spiritual  society,  was 
wanting  to  the  church.  It  would  be  unjust  to  say  that  it 
was  absolutely  unknown  to  her,  and  that  she  believed  that 
spiritual  society  could  exist  between  men  without  the  consent 
of  their  intellect  or  liberty.  Thus  put  in  its  simple  and 
naked  form,  this  idea  is  offensive  and  necessarily  repulsed ; 
besides,  the  full  and  vigorous  exercise  of  reason  and  will  was 
too  recent  and  still  too  frequent  in  the  church,  for  her  to  fall 
into  so  entire  an  oblivion.  She  did  not  affirm  that  truth  had 
a  right  to  employ  constraint ;  on  the  contrary,  she  incessantly 
repeated  that  spiritual  arms  were  the  only  arms  of  which 
she  could  and  ought  to  avail  herself.  But  this  principle,  if  I 
may  so  express  myself,  was  only  upon  the  surface  of  minds, 
and  evaporated  from  day  to  day.  The  idea  that  truth,  one 
and  universal,  had  a  right  to  pursue  by  force  the  conse- 
quences  of  its  unity  and  universality,  became  from  day  to  day 
the  aommant,  active,  and  efficacious  idea.  Of  the  two  con- 
ditions  of  spiritual  society,  the  rational  unity  of  doctrine, 
and  the  actual  unity  of  minds,  the  first  almost  solely  occu 
Vol.  II.— 21 


242  HISTORY    OF 

pied  the  church ;  the  second  was  incessantly  forgotten  01 
violated. 

Many  centuries  were  necessary  in  order  to  give  to  it  its 
place  and  power,  that  is  to  say,  to  bring  out  the  true  nature 
of  spiritual  society,  its  complete  nature,  and  the  harmony  of 
its  elements.  It  was  iong  the  general  error  to  believe  that 
the  empire  of  truth — that  is,  of  universal  reason — could  be 
established  without  the  free  exercise  of  individual  reason, 
without  respect  to  its  right.  Thus  they  misunderstood  spiritual 
society,  even  in  announcing  it ;  they  exposed  it  to  the  risk  of 
being  but  a  lying  illusion.  The  employment  of  force  does  far 
more  than  stain  it,  it  kills  it ;  in  order  that  its  unity  may  be, 
not  only  pure,  but  real,  it  is  necessary  that  it  shine  forth  in 
the  midst  of  the  development  of  all  intellects  and  all  liber- 
ties. 

It  will  be  the  honor  of  our  times  to  have  penetrated  into 
the  essence  of  spiritual  society  much  further  than  the  world 
has  ever  yet  done,  to  have  much  more  completely  known  and 
asserted  it.  We  now  know  that  it  has  two  conditions  :  1st, 
the  presence  of  a  general  and  absolute  truth,  a  rule  of 
doctrines  and  human  action :  2d,  the  full  development  of  all 
intellects,  in  face  of  this  truth,  and  the  free  adhesion  of  souls 
to  its  power.  Let  not  one  of  these  conditions  ever  allow 
us  to  forget  the  other;  let  not  the  idea  of  the  liberty  of 
minds  weaken  in  us  that  of  the  unity  of  spiritual  society  : 
because  individual  convictions  should  be  clear  and  free,  let 
us  not  be  tempted  to  believe  that  there  is  no  universal  truth 
which  has  a  right  to  command  ;  in  respecting  the  reason  of 
each,  do  not  lose  sight  of  the  one  and  sovereign  reason. 
The  history  of  human  society  has  hitherto  passed  alternately 
from  one  to  the  other  of  these  dispositions.  At  certain  epochs 
men  have  been  peculiarly  struck  with  the  nature  and  rights 
of  this  universal  and  absolute  truth,  the  legitimate  master  to 
whose  reign  they  aspired :  they  flattered  themselves  that  at 
last  they  had  encountered  and  possessed  it,  and  in  their  foolish 
confidence  they  accorded  to  it  the  absolute  power  which  soon 
and  inevitably  engendered  tyranny.  After  having  long  sub- 
nutted  to  and  respected  it,  man  recognized  it,  he  saw  the 
name  and  rights  of  truth  usurped  by  ignorant  or  perverse 
force ;  then  he  was  more  irritated  with  the  idols  than  occupied 
with  God  himself ;  the  unity  of  divine  reason,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  to  use  the  expression,  was  no  longer  the  object  of 
his  habitual  contemplation ;   he  above  all  thought  upon  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  243 

right  of  human  reason  in  the  relations  of  men,  and  often 
finished  by  forgetting  that,  if  it  is  free,  the  will  is  not  arbitra- 
ry ;  that  if  there  is  a  right  of  inquiry  for  individual  reason,  it 
is  still  subordinate  to  that  general  reason  which  serves  for  the 
measure  and  touchstone  of  all  minds.  And  even  as  in  the 
first  instance  there  was  tyranny,  so  in  the  second  there  was 
anarchy,  that  is  to  say,  the  absence  of  general  and  powerful 
belief,  the  absence  of  principles  in  the  soul,  and  of  union  in 
society.  One  may  hope  that  our  time  is  called  to  avoid  each 
of  these  sand-banks,  for  it  is,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  possession 
of  the  chart  which  points  them  both  out.  The  development 
of  civilization  must  be  accomplished  hereafter  under  the 
simultaneous  influence  of  a  two-fold  reverence  j  universal 
reason  will  be  sought  as  the  supreme  law,  the  final  aim ;  in- 
dividual reason  will  be  free,  and  invoked  to  develope  itself  as 
the  best  means  of  attaining  to  universal  reason.  And  if 
spiritual  society  be  never  complete  and  pure — the  imperfec- 
tion of  humanity  will  not  allow  it — at  least  its  unity  will  no 
longer  run  the  risk  of  being  factitious  and  fraudulent.  You 
have  had  a  glance  at  the  state  of  minds  concerning  this  great 
idea,  at  the  epoch  upon  which  we  are  occupied  :  let  us  pass 
to  the  state  of  facts,  and  see  what  practical  consequence  had 
already  been  produced  by  that  unity  of  the  church,  of  which 
we  have  just  described  the  rational  characteristics. 

It  was  seen  above  all  in  the  ecclesiastical  legislation,  and  it 
was  so  much  the  more  conspicuous  there,  from  being  in  con- 
tradiction to  all  that  passed  elsewhere.  We  have  studied  in 
our  last  lectures  civil  legislation  from  the  fifth  to  the  eighth 
century  ;  and  diversity,  which  gradually  increased,  has  ap- 
peared to  us  its  fundamental  trait.  The  tendency  of  religious 
society  is  very  different ;  it  aspired  to  a  unity  in  laws,  and 
attained  it.  And  it  is  not  that  she  exclusively  drew  her  laws 
from  the  primitive  monuments  of  religion,  from  the  sacred 
books,  always  and  everywhere  the  same :  in  proportion  as  she 
was  developed,  new  desires  were  manifested,  new  laws  were 
necessary,  or  a  new  legislator.  Who  should  it  be  ?  The 
east  was  separated  from  the  west,  the  west  was  daily  parcelled 
out  into  distinct  and  independent  states.  Should  there  be,  for 
the  church  thus  dispersed,  many  legislators  ?  Shall  the 
councils  of  Gaul,  Spain,  or  Italy,  give  them  religious  laws  ? 
No ;  there  shall  be  an  universal  and  sole  legislation  for  the 
whole  church,  superior  to  all  the  diversities  of  national 
churches  and  councils,  and  to  all  the  differences  which  are 


244 


HISTORY    OP 


necessarily  introduced  into  discipline,  worship,  and  usages 
The  decrees  of  the  general  councils  shall  everywhere  be  oh. 
ligatory  and  accepted.  From  the  fourth  to  the  eighth  cen- 
tury  there  were  six  oecumenical  or  general  councils ;  they 
were  all  held  in  the  east,  by  the  bishops  of  the  east,  and  un- 
der the  influence  of  the  eastern  emperors ;  there  were  scarcely 
any  bishops  from  the  west  among  them.1  Yet,  despite  so 
many  causes  for  misunderstanding  and  separation,  despite  the 
diversity  of  languages,  governments,  and  manners,  and  more- 
over, despite  the  rivalry  of  the  patriaichs  of  Rome,  Constanti- 
nople, and  Alexandria,  the  legislation  of  the  general  councils 
was  everywhere  adopted ;  the  west  and  the  east  alike  yielded 
to  it  j  a  few  only  of  the  decrees  of  the  fifth  council  were  for 
a  moment  contested.  So  powerful  already  was  the  idea  of 
unity  in  the  church  ;  such  was  the  spiritual  tie  dominating  all 
things ! 

With  regard  to  the  second  principle  of  spiritual  society, 
liberty  of  minds,  some  distinction  must  be  made  between  the 
east  and  the  west ;  the  state  of  facts  was  not  the-  same  in 
them. 

In  setting  forth  the  state  of  the  church  in  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries,  I  have  made  you  acquainted  with  the  disposition 
of  the  legislation,  and  of  minds  generally,  with  regard  tc 
heresy.  The  principle  of  persecution,  you  will  recollect,  was 
neither  clearly  established,  nor  constantly  dominant ;  still  it 
gradually  prevailed  ;  in  spite  of  the  generous  protestations  of 
some  bishops,  in  spite  of  the  variety  of  cases,  the  laws  of 
Theodosius,  the  persecution  of  the  Arians,  the  Donatists,  the 
Pelagians,  and  the  punishment  of  the  Priscillianists,  do  not 
admit  a  doubt  of  this. 


•  Table  of  the  General  Councils  from  the  Fourth  to  the  Eighth 
Century. 


Date. 

Place. 

Present. 

Eastern. 

Western. 

325 

Nicea     .     .     . 

318 

315 

3 

381 

Constantinople 

150 

149 

1 

431 

Ephesus      .     . 

68 

67 

1 

451 

Chalcedonia   . 

353 

350 

3 

553 

Constantinople 

164 

158 

6 

680 

Constantinople 

56 

51 

5 

CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  245 

Dating  from  the  sixth  century,  and  in  the  Empire  of  the 
east,  the  true  successor  and  continuator  of  the  Roman  empire, 
events  and  ideas  followed  the  same  course ;  the  principle  of 
persecution  was  developed ;  the  history  of  the  Monophysites 
and  Monothelites,  that  of  many  other  heresies,  and  the  legis- 
lation of  Justinian,  give  proof  of  this. 

In  the  west,  the  invasion  and  all  its  consequences  for  some 
time  delayed  its  progress ;  almost  all  intellectual  movement 
came  to  a  stand  still.  Amidst  the  incessant  confusion  of  life, 
what  room  could  be  left  for  contemplation  and  study  ?  Here- 
sies were  rare ;  the  contest  continued  between  the  Arians  and 
the  orthodox ;  but  we  see  but  few  new  doctrines  arise,  and 
those  which  attempted  to  introduce  themselves  were  scarcely 
anything  more  than  a  weak  echo  of  the  heresies  of  the  east. 
Persecution,  therefore,  so  to  speak,  wanted  matter  and  occa- 
sion. Besides,  the  bishops  did  not  in  any  way  provoke  it ; 
more  pressing  affairs  occupied  them  ;  the  situation  of  the 
church  was  perilous ;  she  not  only  was  under  the  necessity 
of  occupying  herself  about  her  temporal  interests,  but  her 
safety,  her  very  existence,  was  in  danger ;  they  cared  little 
for  minor  varieties  of  opinion.  Fifty-four  councils  were  held 
in  Gaul  in  the  sixth  century ;  two  only,  that  of  Orange  and 
that  of  Valentia,  in  529,  occupied  themselves  with  dogmas  ; 
they  c  nidemned  the  heresy  of  the  semi-Pelagians,  which  the 
fifth  century  had  bequeathed  to  them. 

Lastly,  the  barbaric  kings,  the  new  masters  of  the  soil,  took 
but  little  interest,  and  rarely  any  part  in  such  debates.  The 
emperors  of  the  east  were  theologians  as  well  as  bishops;  they 
had  been  born  and  bred  in  theology ;  they  had  personal  and 
fixed  opinions  concerning  its  problems  and  quarrels.  Jus- 
tinian and  Heraclius  willingly  engaged  upon  their  own 
account  in  the  suppression  of  heresy.  Unless  impelled  by 
some  powerful  political  motive,  neither  Gondebald,  Chilperic, 
nor  Gontran,  troubled  themselves  in  the  matter.  Numerous 
actions  and  words  have  come  down  to  us  of  the  Burgundian, 
Gothic,  and  Frank  kings,  which  prove  how  little  they  were 
disposed  to  exert  their  power  in  such  causes.  "  We  cannot 
command  religion,"  said  Theodoric,  king  of  the  Ostrogoths  ; 
"  no  one  can  be  forced  to  believe,  in  spite  of  himself."1  .  .  . 
"  Since  the  Deity  suffers  various  religions,"  said  King  Theo- 


i  Cassiod.  Variar.  Ep.  1.  xi.,ep.  27. 


246  HISTOUY   OF 

dobat,  "  we  dare  not  prescribe  a  single  one.  We  remembei 
having  read  that  God  must  be  sacrificed  to  willingly,  and  not 
under  the  constraint  of  a  master.  Those,  therefore,  who  at- 
tempt to  do  otherwise,  evidently  oppose  themselves  to  the 
divine  commands."1 

Doubtless,  Cassiodorus  here  lends  to  the  two  Gothic  kings 
the  superiority  of  his  reason ;  but  they  adopted  his  language  ; 
and  in  many  other  cases,  whether  it  be  ignorance  or  good 
sense,  we  find  the  barbaric  princes  manifesting  the  same  dis- 
position. 

In  fact,  therefore,  from  the  concurrence  of  various  causes, 
the  second  condition  of  spiritual  society,  liberty  of  minds,  was 
at  this  epoch  less  violated  in  the  west  than  in  the  east.  It  is 
necessary,  however,  not  to  be  mistaken  in  this  matter ;  it  was 
but  an  accident,  the  temporary  effect  of  external  circum- 
stances ;  at  bottom  the  principle  was  equally  overlooked,  and 
the  general  course  of  things  tended  equally  to  bring  about  the 
prevalence  of  persecution. 

You  see  that,  in  spite  of  some  differences,  the  unity  of  the 
church,  with  all  the  consequences  attached  thereto,  was  every- 
where the  dominant  fact,  alike  in  the  west  and  in  the  east ; 
alike  in  the  social  state  and  in  minds  generally.  That  was 
the  principle  which,  in  religious  society,  presided  over  opinions, 
laws,  and  actions,  the  point  from  which  they  always  started ; 
the  end  to  which  they  incessantly  tended.  From  the  fourth 
century,  this  idea  was,  as  it  were,  the  star  under  whose  influ- 
ence religious  society  was  developed  in  Europe,  and  which  it 
is  necessary  to  keep  always  in  view,  in  order  to  follow  and  to 
comprehend  the  vicissitudes  of  its  destiny. 

This  point  agreed  upon,  and  the  characteristic  fact  of  this 
epoch  being  well  established,  let  us  enter  upon  the  particular 
examination  of  the  state  of  the  church,  and  seek  what  were : 
first,  her  relations  with  civil  society  and  its  government ; 
secondly,  her  peculiar  and  internal  organization. 

I  would  pray  you  to  recall  what  I  said  when  speaking  of 
the  church  in  the  fifth  century :  it  appeared  to  us  that  her  re- 
lations with  the  state  might  be  determined  into  four  different 
systems :  1st,  the  complete  independence  of  the  church  :  the 
unnoticed  and  unknown  church,  receiving  neither  law  nor 
B'oport  from  the  state ;  2dly,  the  sovereignty  of  the  state  over 


Cassiod.  Variar.  Ep.  1.  x.,  ep.  26 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  r     247 

tho  church :  religious  society  governed,  if  not  completely,  at 
least  in  its  principal  elements,  by  the  civil  power ;  3dly,  the 
sovereignty  of  the  church  over  the  state :  the  temporal  govern, 
ment,  if  not  directly  possessed,  at  least  completely  dominated 
by  the  spiritual  power ;  4thly,  and  lastly,  the  co-existence  of 
the  two  societies,  the  two  powers,  which,  though  separate,  were 
allied  by  certain  various  and  variable  conditions,  which  united 
without  confounding  them. 

We,  at  the  same  time,  recognized  that  in  the  fifth  century 
this  latter  system  prevailed ;  that  the  Christian  church  and 
the  Roman  empire  both  existed,  as  two  distinct  societies,  each 
having  its  government  and  laws,  but  adopting  and  mutually 
sustaining  each  other.  In  the  midst  of  their  reliance,  we 
discovered  traces  still  visible  of  another  principle,  of  an  ante- 
rior state,  the  sovereignty  of  the  state  over  the  church,  the 
intervention  and  decided  preponderance  of  the  emperors  in 
her  administration ;  lastly,  but  only  in  the  distance,  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  church  over  the 
state,  the  domination  over  the  temporal  government  by  the 
spiritual  power. 

Such  appeared  to  us,  in  its  whole,  the  situation  of  the 
Christian  cnurch  of  the  fifteenth  century  in  her  relations  with 
the  state. 

In  the  sixth  century,  if  we  regard  the  eastern  empire,  ovei 
which  it  is  always  necessary  to  extend  our  view  in  order  to 
comprehend  properly  what  happened  in  the  west,  and  the 
changes  which  the  barbaric  invasion  brought  about  in  the 
course  of  things,  we  shall  be  struck  by  two  simultaneous 
facts : — 

1st.  The  clergy,  especially  the  episcopacy,  unceasingly 
procured  from  the  emperors  new  fa»ors  and  privileges.  Jus- 
tinian gave  to  the  bishops:  1st,  the  civil  jurisdiction  over 
monks  and  nuns,  the  same  as  over  clerks  ;l  2d,  the  inspec- 
tion of  property  ir  cities,  and  the  preponderance  in  all  muni- 
cipal administration  ;2  3d,  the  enfranchisement  from  paternal 
power  ;3  4th,  he  forbad  the  judges  calling  them  as  witnesses, 
and  demanding  an  oath  of  them.4  Herodius  granted  them 
the  criminal  jurisdiction  over  clerks.5     The  influence  and 


1  JVov.. Justin.,  79,  83 ;  a.d.  535.        »  Cod.  Justin  ,  i.,  tit  iv.,  1  26 

•  JVov.  81.  *  JVov.  123,  c.  7 

•  Gieaeler,  Lehrbuchder  ITirchengeachichte,  t.  i.,  p.  602. 


248      *  HISTORY   OF 

immunities  of  religious  society  in  civil  society  were  ever  in 
creasing. 

2d.  The  emperors,  however,  mixed  themselves  more  and 
more  in  the  affairs  of  the  church ;  not  only  in  her  relations 
with  the  state,  but  in  her  internal  affairs,  constitution,  and 
discipline.  And  not  only  did  they  meddle  with  her  govern- 
ment, but  they  interfered  in  her  creeds ;  they  gave  decrees  in 
favor  of  such  and  such  a  dogma  ;  they  regulated  the  faith. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  authority  of  the  eastern  emperors  over 
religious  society  was  more  general,  active,  frequent,  despotic, 
than  it  had  ever  been  hitherto ;  despite  the  progress  of  her 
privileges,  the  situation  of  the  church  with  regard  to  the  civil 
power  was  weak,  inferior,  and  fallen  off  from  what  it  was  in 
the  ancient  Empire. 

Two  contemporaneous  texts  will  prevent  your  doubting 
this. 

In  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  the  Franks  sent  an  em- 
bassy  to  Constantinople ;  the  clergy  of  Italy  wrote  to  the 
Frank  envoys  to  give  them,  as  to  the  empire  of  the  east,  such 
information  as  they  believed  might  be  beneficial  to  the  success 
of  their  mission : 

"  The  Greek  bishops,"  it  said  to  them,  "  have  great  and 
opulent  churches,  and  they  cannot  bear  being  suspended  two 
months  from  the  government  of  ecclesiastical  affairs ;  so  ac- 
commodating themselves  to  the  age,  and  to  the  will  of  princes, 
they  consent  without  contest  to  all  that  is  demanded  of 
them."1 

The  next  is  a  document  which  speaks  still  more  emphati- 
cally. Maurice,  emperor  of  the  east  (582 — 602),  had  inter- 
dicted all  persons  occupied  in  civil  functions  from  becoming 
clerks  or  entering  a  monastery  ;  he  had  sent  this  law  to  Rome, 
to  pope  Gregory  the  Great,  in  order  that  he  might  spread  it 
in  the  west.  Rome  was  only  held  to  the  Greek  empire  by  a 
feeble  tie ;  Gregory  had  not  in  reality  anything  to  fear  from 
the  emperor  ;  he  was  ardent  and  proud  ;  the  decree  of  Mau- 
rice offended  him;  he  wished  to  mark  his  disapprobation, 
perhaps  even  attempt  some  resistance  ,  he  thus  terminated  his 
letter : 

"  I,  who  say  these  things  to  my  lords,  what  am  I,  but  dus* 
or  an  earth-worm  ?   Still,  as  I  think  that  this  law  goes  against 


Mansi.  Cone,  t.  ix  ,  p.  153 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  24S 

God,  the  author  of  all  things,  I  cannot  conceal  this  thought 
from  my  lords ;  and  see  what  Christ  answers  to  it,  in  saying 
to  you,  through  me,  the  last  of  his  servants  and  yours :  '  From 
secretary  I  have  made  thee  count  of  the  guards,  from  count 
of  the  guards,  Caesar,  from  Caesar,  emperor,  and  not  only  em- 
peror, but  also  father  of  an  emperor ;  I  have  confided  my 
priests  to  thy  hands,  and  thou  withdrawest  thy  soldiers  from 
my  service.'  I  pray  thee,  most,  pious  lord,  say  to  thy  ser- 
vant, what  wilt  thou  answer  at  the  day  of  judgment  to  thy 
God,  who  will  come  and  say  these  things  to  thee  ? 

"  As  for  me,  submitting  to  thy  order,  I  have  sent  this  law 
to  the  various  countries  of  the  earth,  and  I  have  said  to  my 
serene  lords,  in  this  paper,  whereon  I  have  deposited  my  re- 
flections, that  this  law  goes  against  that  of  the  all-powerful 
God ;  I  have  therefore  fulfilled  my  duty  upon  each  side ;  I 
have  rendered  obedience  to  Caesar,  and  I  have  not  been  silent 
as  to  what  appeared  to  me  against  God.'n 

Of  a  surety,  from  such  a  man,  in  such  a  situation,  and 
with  such  a  design,  the  tone  of  this  letter  is  singularly  mild 
and  modest.  Some  centuries  later,  Gregory  would  have  used 
a  very  different  language  towards  even  the  nearest  and  most 
redoubtable  sovereign.  The  language  which  he  adopts  here, 
can  have  no  other  cause  than  the  habits  of  subordination  and 
dependence  of  the  church  towards  the  eastern  emperors, 
amidst  the  continual  extension  of  her  immunities. 

The  church  3f  the  tvest,  after  the  invasion  and  under  the 
barbaric  kings,  offers  a  different  spectacle.  Her  new  masters 
mixed  themselves  in  no  manner  with  her  dogmas  ;  they  left 
her,  in  matters  of  faith,  to  act  and  govern  herself  as  she 
pleased.  They  interfered  almost  as  little  in  her  discipline, 
properly  so  called,  in  the  relations  of  the  clergy  among  them- 
selves. But  in  all  which  concerned  the  relations  between  the 
religious  and  civil  societies,  in  all  that  could  interest  temporal 
power,  the  church  lost  independence  and  privilege  ;  she  was 
less  free,  and  not  treated  so  well  as  under  the  Roman  empe- 
rors. 1st.  You  have  seen  that,  before  the  fall  of  the  Empire, 
the  bishops  were  elected  by  the  clergy  and  the  people.  The 
emperor  only  interfered  in  rare  cases,  in  the  election  for  the 
most  considerable  towns.  It  was  no  longer  so  in  Gaul  after 
he  establishment  of  the  barbaric  monarchies.     The  churchea 


1  Oreg.  M.  Epist  ,  1.  iii.,  ep.  65,  to  the  emperor  Maurice. 


250  HISTORY    OF 

were  wealthy ;  the  barbaric  kings  made  them  a  means  of  re, 
compensing  their  servants  and  enriching  themselves.  In  nu- 
merous instances,  they  directly  nominated  the  bishops.  The 
church  protested ;  she  claimed  the  election ;  she  did  not 
always  succeed  therein  ;  many  bishops  were  retained  in  the 
«ees  where  they  had  been  placed  by  the  kings  alone.  Still 
(iie  fact  was  not  changed  into  a  matter  of  right,  and  continued 
10  pass  for  an  abuse.  The  kings  themselves  admit  this  on 
«nany  occasions.  The  church,  by  degrees,  regained  the  elec- 
tion ;  but  she  also  gave  way  in  her  turn  ;  she  granted  that 
after  the  election  the  confirmation  of  the  king  was  necessary. 
The  bishop,  who  formerly  took  possession  of  his  see,  from  the 
lime  that  he  was  consecrated  by  the  archbishop,  now  ascended 
not  his  throne  until  after  obtaining  the  sanction  of  royalty. 
Such  w  not  only  the  fact,  but  the  religious  and  civil  law. 

"  Let  no  person  be  permitted,"  orders  the  council  of  Or- 
leans in  549,  "  to  acquire  a  see  by  means  of  money ;  but  with 
the  consent  of  the  king,  let  him  who  shall  have  been  elected 
by  the  clergy  and  the  people,  be  consecrated  bishop  by  the 
archbishop  and  his  suffragans." 

"  Upon  the  death  of  a  bishop,"  says  Clotaire  II.,  in  615, 
"  he  who  is  to  be  ordained  in  his  place  by  the  archbishop 
and  his  suffragans,  shall  be  elected  by  the  clergy  and  the 
people,  and  ordained  by  the  order  of  the  prince." 

The  contest  between  election  and  royal  nomination  was 
often  reproduced ;  but  in  every  case  the  necessity  of  confir- 
mation was  acknowledged. 

2d.  As  under  the  Roman  empire,  councils  could  not  be 
convoked  but  with  the  consent  of  the  prince,  and  he  threat- 
ened the  bishops  when  they  attempted  to  evade  it.  "  We  have 
learnt  from  public  report,"  wrote  king  Sigbert  to  Didier, 
bishop  of  Cahors,  in  the  seventh  century,  "  that  you  have 
been  convoked  by  .  .  .  the  bishop  of  Vulfoleud,  to  hold  a 
council  in  our  kingdom,  the  1st  of  September  .  .  .  with  the 
others  .  .  .  bishops  of  your  province.  .  .  .  Although  we  desire 
to  maintain  the  observance  of  the  canons  and  ecclesiastical 
rules,  as  they  were  preserved  by  our  ancestors,  still  because 
we  have  not  been  made  acquainted  with  the  convocation  of  this 
assembly,  we  have  agreed,  with  our  great  men,  not  to  suffer  this 
council  to  be  held  without  our  knowledge  in  our  states ;  and 
that  no  bishops  of  our  kingdom  shall  assemble  at  the  approach- 
ing calends  of  September.  In  future,  if  we  have  timely 
intimation  of  the  object  of  a  council,  whether  it  meets  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  25  i 

irder  to  regulate  the  discipline  of  the  church,  or  for  the  good 
of  the  state,  or  for  other  affairs,  we  shall  not  refuse  our  con- 
sent  to  its  meeting;  provided,  however,  that  information  is 
first  given  us  of  it.  The  reason  we  write  you  this  letter  is, 
to  forbid  your  attending  this  assembly."  The  monuments, 
the  very  acts  of  thirteen  councils  assembled  in  the  sixth  and 
seventh  centuries,  formally  express  tha  they  were  convoked 
by  the  order,  and  held  with  the  consent  of  the  king.1  I  do 
not  doubt,  however,  but  in  this,  the  fact  was  very  often  con- 
trary to  the  acknowledged  right,  and  that  a  number  of  coun- 
cils, especially  the  mere  provincial  councils,  met  and  regulated 
their  affafrs  without  any  authorization. 

3d.  Some  writers2  have  thought  that  the  independence  of 
the  church  also  suffered  from  an  institution  which  was  more 
developed  among  the  Franks  than  elsewhere  ;  I  mean  the 
chapel  of  the  king,  and  the  priest  who  had  the  direction  of  it, 
under  the  name  of  Archicapellanus,  Abbas  regii  oratorii  Apo- 
crisiarius.  At  first  charged  only  with  the  exercise  of  wor- 
ship in  the  interior  of  the  palace,  this  superior  of  the  chapel 
assumed  gradually  more  importance,  and  became,  to  speak 
in  the  language  so  little  applicable  of  our  own  times,  a  kind 
of  minister  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  for  the  whole  kingdom ; 
it  is  supposed  these  were  managed  almost  entirely  by  his  in- 
termediation, and  that  by  his  means  royalty  exercised  a  great 
influence  over  them.  It  may  be  that  this  influence  was  real 
a*  certain  times,  under  such  or  such  a  king,  under  Charle- 
p-*cne.  for  example ;  but  I  very  much  doubt  that  in  general, 


These  are : 

1. 

The 

:o\incil  of  Orleans,  in      511. 

2. 

— 

(i 

Orleans,  in      533. 

3. 

— 

«< 

Clermont,  in  535 

4. 

— 

M 

Orleans,  in      549 

5. 

— 

M 

Paris,  in         556. 

6. 

— 

<( 

Tours,  in        567. 

7. 

— 

cc 

Lyons,  in        575. 

8. 

— 

M 

Chalons,  in     579. 

9. 

— 

<t 

Macon,  in       581. 

10. 

— 

it 

Valencia,  in    5S4. 

11. 

— 

M 

Verdun          

12. 

— 

« 

Paris,  in          615. 

13. 

— 

(1 

Chalons,  in    650. 

■  Among  others, 

M.  Planck, 

in  his  History  of  the  Constitution  <  f 

the  Christian  Church  (in  German),  a  work  of  rare  science  and  impa-  - 

Utility. — See  vol.  ii 

.,  147. 

252  HISTORY   OF 

and  of  itself,  the  institution  was  efficacious ;  it  would  serv» 
rather  the  power  of  the  church  over  the  king,  than  that  of  the 
king  in  the  church. 

4th.  There  was  something  more  real  in  the  restrictions  tc 
which,  at  this  epoch,  the  ecclesiastical  privileges  were  subject- 
ed. They  were  numerous  and  important.  For  example,  it 
was  forbidden  any  bishop  to  ordain  a  free  man  as  priest  with- 
out  the  consent  of  the  king.1  Priests  were  exempt  from  mili- 
tary service  ;  the  king  did  not  choose  that  free  men  should 
relieve  themselves  at  will  by  means  of  this  title.  The  church, 
therefore,  at  this  epoch  was  peopled  with  slaves  ;  it  was  espe- 
cially among  her  own  slaves,  among  the  serfs  and  laborers  of 
her  domains,  that  she  recruited  herself;  and  this  circum- 
stance, perhaps,  is  one  of  those  which  have  not  least  contri- 
buted to  the  efforts  of  the  church  for  ameliorating  the  condi- 
tion of  the  serfs.  Many  priests  were  taken  from  among 
them ;  and,  independently  of  religious  motives,  they  knew  the 
miseries  of  their  situation,  they  bore  some  sympathy  for  those 
who  were  plunged  in  it.  In  criminal  matters,  the  priests  in 
the  west  had  not  obtained  the  privilege  which  Heraclius  had 
granted  to  those  in  the  east ;  they  were  tried  by  the  ordinary 
lay  judges.  In  civil  matters  the  clergy  judged  itself,  but  only 
in  cases  where  the  cause  interested  simply  priests ;  if  the 
difference  was  between  a  priest  and  a  layman,  the  layman 
was  not  bound  to  appear  before  the  bishop ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  had  the  priest  before  his  judges.  With  regard  to  public 
charges,  there  were  certain  churches  whose  domains  were 
exempt,  and  the  number  of  these  daily  increased ;  but  the 
immunity  was  by  no  means  general.  Upon  the  whole,  imme- 
diately after  the  invasion,  in  'ts  principal  relations  with  the 
temporal  power,  the  clergy  of  Frankish  Gaul  seemed  less  in- 
dependent, and  invested  with  less  privileges,  than  it  was  in 
Roman  Gaul. 

But  means  were  not  wanting  both  to  regain  in  time  advan- 
tages, and  to  assure  herself  of  large  compensations.  By  not 
in  any  way  interfering  in  dogmatical  points,  that  is,  in  the  in- 
tellectual government  of  the  church,  the  barbaric  kings  left 
to  her  the  most  fertile  source  of  power.  She  knew  how  to 
draw  largely  upon  it.  In  the  east,  the  laity  took  part  in  the- 
ology  and  in  the  influence  which  it  conferred.     In  the  west, 


i    Council  of  Orleans,  in  511,  can.  6. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  253 

the  clergy  alone  addressed  itself  to  minds,  and  alone  waa 
master  of  them.  It  alone  spoke  to  the  people,  and  alone  ral. 
lied  them  around  certain  ideas  which  became  laws.  It  was 
by  this  means  especially  that  it  re-acquired  power,  and  repaired 
the  losses  to  which  the  invasion  had  subjected  it.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  epoch  upon  which  we  are  occupied,  this  had 
already  become  visible.  The  church  evidently  recovered 
from  the  shocks  which  had  been  given  her  by  the  disorder  of 
the  times  and  the  brutal  avidity  of  the  barbarians.  She  made 
her  right  of  asylum  acknowledged  and  consecrated.  She 
acquired  a  kind  of  right  of  superintendence  and  revision  over 
the  lay  judges  of  an  inferior  order.  The  consequences  of 
her  jurisdiction  over  all  sins  were  developed.  By  wills  and 
marriages,  she  penetrated  more  and  more  into  the  civil  order. 
Ecclesiastical  judges  were  associated  with  lay  judges  every 
time  a  priest  was  concerned  in  the  suit.  Lastly,  the  presence 
of  the  bishops,  whether  with  the  king,  in  the  assembly  of 
great  men,  or  in  the  hierarchy  of  proprietors,  assured  them  a 
powerful  participation  in  the  political  order ;  and  if  the  sove- 
reign power  meddled  in  church  afairs,  the  church,  in  her 
turn,  extended  her  action  and  power  more  and  more  into  the 
affairs  of  the  world. 

This  is  the  dominant  character  of  this  epoch,  as  regards  the 
reciprocal  situation  of  the  civil  and  religious  society.  The 
temporal  and  spiritual  powers  approached,  penetrated,  and 
encroached  more  and  more  upon  each  other.  Before  the  in- 
vasion,  when  the  Empire  was  still  erect,  although  the  two  so- 
cieties were  already  strongly  entwined  with  one  another,  still 
there  was  a  profound  distinction.  The  independence  of  the 
church  was  sufficiently  complete  in  what  directly  concerned 
her ;  and  in  temporal  matters,  although  she  had  much  influ- 
ence, she  had  hardly  any  direct  action  except  upon  the  muni- 
cipal system,  and  in  the  midst  of  cities.  For  the  genera, 
government  of  the  state,  the  emperor  had  his  machinery  all 
prepared,  his  councils,  magistrates,  and  armies ;  in  a  word, 
the  political  order  was  complete  and  regular,  apart  from  the 
religious  society  and  its  government.  After  the  invasion, 
amidst  the  dissolution  of  the  political  order,  and  the  universal 
trouble,  the  limits  of  the  two  governments  vanished  ;  they 
lived  from  day  to  day  without  principles,  without  settled  con- 
ditions ;  they  encountered  everywhere,  clashing,  confounded, 
disputing  the  means  of  action,  struggling  together  in  darkness 
and  by  chance.     Of  this  irregular  co-existence  of  temporal 


254  HISTORY    OF 

and  spiritual  power,  this  fantastical  entanglement  of  theL 
attributes,  these  reciprocal  usurpations,  this  uncertainty  as  to 
their  limits,  all  this  chaos  of  church  and  state,  which  has 
played  so  great  a  part  in  our  history,  which  has  brought  forth 
so  many  events  and  theories,  it  is  to  the  epoch  which  now  oc- 
cupies us  that  the  origin  must  be  assigned  ;  that  only  is  its 
most  striking  feature. 

In  our  next  lecture  we  shall  occupy  ourse  ves  with  the 
internal  organization  of  the  church,  and  the  changes  which 
haopened  in  it  during  the  same  period. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  25fi 


THIRTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Of  the  internal  organization  and  state  of  the  Gallo-Frankish  church, 
from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century — Characteristic  facts  of  the 
Gaulish  church  at  the  fifth  century — What  became  of  then;  after  the 
invasion — The  exclusive  domination  of  the  clergy  in  the  religious 
society  continues— Facts  which  modify  it :  1.  Separation  of  ordina- 
tion and  tenure  ;  priests  not  ecclesiastics — 2.  Patronage  by  laymen 
of  the  churches  which  they  founded — 3.  Oratories,  or  particular 
chapels— 4.  Advocates  of  the  churches— Picture  of  the  general  orga- 
nization of  the  church — Parishes  and  their  priests — Archpriests  and 
archdeacons — Bishops — Archbishops — Attempts  to  establish  the  pa- 
triarchates in  the  west — Fall  of  the  archbishops — Preponderance 
and  despotism  of  the  episcopacy  —  Struggle  of  the  priests  and 
narishes  against  the  bishops — The  bishops  triumphant — Despotism 
corrupts  them — Decline  of  the  secular  clergy — Necessity  for  a  re- 
formation. 

We  have  seen  what  were  the  relations  between  the  church 
and  the  state,  and  their  principal  modifications,  in  Frankish 
Gaul,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century.  We  shall  now 
examine  the  peculiar  and  internal  organization  of  the  church 
at  the  same  epoch  ;  it  is  curious  and  full  of  vicissitudes. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  a  religious  society  may  be  con- 
stituted according  to  two  principal  systems.  In  one,  the  faith- 
ful, the  laymen,  as  well  as  the  priests,  take  part  in  the  govern- 
ment ;  the  religious  society  is  not  under  the  exclusive  empire 
of  the  ecclesiastical  society.  In  the  other  system,  power  be- 
longs to  the  clergy  alone  ;  laymen  are  strangers  to  it ;  it  is 
the  ecclesiastical  society  which  governs  the  religious  society. 

This  fundamental  distinction  once  established,  we  have  seen 
that  in  each  of  these  two  great  systems,  totally  various  modes 
of  organization  might  be  developed :  where  religious  society 
governed  itself,  for  example,  it  might  be — 1st,  that  the  local 
associations  were  united  in  one  general  church,  under  the 
direction  of  one  or  more  assemblies,  where  the  ecclesiastics 
and  the  laity  were  together ;  2dly,  that  there  should  be  no 
general  and  sole  church,  that  each  particular  congregation, 
each  local  church  should  govern  itself;  3dly,  that  there  should 
be  no  clergy,  properly  so  called,  no  men  invested  with  per- 
manent spiritual  power ;  that  the  laity  should  fulfil  the  reli- 
gious functions.     These  three  modes  of  organization  have 


256  HISTORY   OF 

been  realized  by  the  Presbyterians,  the  Independents,  and  th« 
Quakers. 

If  the  clergy  alone  dominates,  if  the  religious  society  is 
under  subjection  to  the  ecclesiastical  society,  this  latter  may 
be  monarchically,  aristocratically,  or  democratically  consti. 
tuted  and  governed,  by  the  papal  power,  the  episcopacy,  or 
by  assemblies  of  priests,  equal  among  themselves.  The  ex- 
ample of  these  various  constitutions  is  likewise  met  with  in 
history. 

In  fact,  in  the  Gaulish  church  of  the  fifth  century,  two  of 
these  principles  had  already  prevailed :  1st,  the  separation  of 
the  religious  society  and  the  ecclesiastical  society,  of  the 
clergy  and  the  people,  was  consummated ;  the  clergy  alone 
governed  the  church — a  domination,  however,  palliated  by 
some  remains  of  the  intervention  of  the  faithful  in  the  election 
of  bishops.  2dly,  in  the  bosom  of  the  clergy,  the  aristocrat- 
ical  system  prevailed  ;  episcopacy  alone  dominated  ;  a  domi- 
nation which  was  likewise  palliated,  on  one  hand  by  the 
intervention  of  the  simple  priests  in  the  election  of  bishops, 
on  the  other  by  the  influence  of  councils,  a  source  of  liberty 
in  the  church,  although  none  but  bishops  sat  in  them. 

Such  were  the  dominant  facts,  the  characteristic  features 
of  the  Gaulish  church  at  the  time  of  the  invasion :  what  did 
they  become  after  the  invasion :  did  they  remain  or  disappear  1 
to  what  modifications  were  they  subjected  from  the  sixth  to 
the  eighth  century  ?  These  are  the  questions  which  musl 
occupy  us  at  present. 

I.  And,  first,  there  cannot  be  a  doubt  but  that  the  separa- 
tion of  the  clergy  and  the  people,  the  exclusive  domination  of 
the  ecclesiastics  over  the  laity,  was  kept  up.  Immediately 
after  the  invasion,  it  appeared  to  waver  for  a  moment ;  in  the 
common  peril,  the  clergy  and  the  people  were  brought  together. 
This  fact  is  nowhere  positively  written  and  visible ;  but  it  is 
seen  by  glimpses,  it  is  everywhere  felt:  in  going  over  the 
documents  of  this  epoch,  one  is  struck  with  I  know  not  what 
new  intimacy  between  the  priests  and  the  faithful ;  these  latter 
lived  in  the  churches,  so  to  speak :  on  numberless  occasions, 
the  bishops  met  them,  spoke  with  them,  consulted  them ;  the 
solemnity  of  the  times,  the  community  of  sentiments  and  des- 
tinies, obliged  the  government  to  establish  itself  in  the  midst 
of  the  population  ;  it  sustained  the  power  which  protected  it : 
in  sustaining  it,  it  took  part  therein. 

This  effect  was  of  short  duration.     You  will  recollect  the 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  251 

principal  cause  to  which  I  have  attributed  the  exclusive  domi- 
nation of  the  clergy  over  the  people.  It  appeared  to  me 
especially  to  result  from  the  inferiority  of  the  people,  an  infe 
riority  of  intellect,  of  energy,  of  influence.  After  the  inva 
sion,  this  fact  did  not  alter,  it  was  rather  aggravated.  The 
miseries  of  the  time  made  the  Gaulish-Roman  population  fall 
still  lower.  The  priests,  on  their  side,  when  once  the  con- 
querors were  converted,  no  longer  felt  the  same  want  of  close 
union  with  the  conquered  ;  the  people,  therefore,  lost  the 
momentary  importance  which  it  seemed  to  have  acquired. 
The  barbarians  inherited  none  of  it ;  they  were  in  no  way 
capable  of  associating  with  the  government  of  the  church  ; 
they  had  not  the  least  wish  so  to  do  ;  and  kings  were  soon  the 
only  laymen  who  took  part  in  it. 

Many  facts,  however,  combated  this  isolation  of  the  eccle- 
siastical society  in  the  religious  society,  and  gave  influence  to 
the  laity  in  default  of  power. 

1st.  The  first,  which,  in  my  opinion,  has  been  oo  little 
marked,  and  which  has  had  enduring  and  important  con- 
sequences, was  the  separation  of  ordination  and  tonsure. 
Down  to  the  sixth  centuiy,  the  tonsure  took  place  at  the  time 
of  entering  into  orders  ;  it  was  regarded  as  the  sign  of  ordi- 
nation, signum  ordinis.  Dating  from  the  sixth  century,  we 
find  the  tonsure  conferred  without  any  admission  into  orders  ; 
instead  of  being  signum  ordinis,  it  was  called  signum  destina- 
tionis  ad  ordinem.  The  principle  of  the  church  had  hitherto 
been,  ionsura  ipsa  est  ordo,  "  tonsure  is  the  order  itself."  She 
maintained  this  principle,  with  this  ex-planation  : 

Tonsure  is  the  order  itself,  but  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
term,  and  as  a  preparation  to  the  divine  service.  In  a  word, 
everything  attests  that,  from  that  time,  tonsure  and  ordina- 
tion were  distinct ;  and  that  many  men  were  tonsured  with- 
out entering  into  orders ;  became  clerks  without  becoming 
ecclesiastics.1 


1  M.  Plank  even  says  that  they  often  cave  the  tensure  to  children  ; 
and  he  refers  to  the  6th  canon  of  the  10th  council  of  Toledo,  held  in 
650,  which  forbids  its  being  conferred  before  the  age  of  ten.  But 
there  is  some  confusion  in  this:  this  canon  only  concerns  children 
•rought  up  in  monasteries,  and  whom  the  tonsure  devoted  to  a  reli- 
gious life.  This  fact  has  no  analogy  with  that  which  occupies  us,  and 
to  the  support  of  which  M.  Plank  invokes  it.— Hist  de  la  Constit  da 
I'Eglise  Chretienne,  ii.,  p.  13,  not.  8.     Labhe\  Cone,  t.  vi.,  c»l.  463. 


258  HISTORY    OF 

They  wished  tj  participate  in  the  immunities  of  the 
church  ;  she  received  them  into  her  ranks  in  the  same  way 
as  she  opened  her  temples  to  the  proscribed  ;  she  therebj 
gained  an  extension  of  her  credit  and  her  forces.  But  the 
religious  society  gained  thereby,  in  its  turn,  a  means  of  action 
upon  the  ecclesiastical  society  ;  those  who  were  merely  ton- 
sured did  not  share  completely  either  the  interests  or  the 
esprit-de  corps,  or  the  life  of  the  clergy,  properly  so  called  ; 
they  preserved,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  habits  and  feelings 
of  the  lay  population,  and  introduced  them  into  the  church. 
More  numerous  than  they  are  generally  supposed,  this  class 
of  men  has  played  a  considerable  part  in  the  history  of  the 
middle  ages.  Bound  to  the  church  without  belonging  to  her, 
enjoying  her  privileges  without  falling  under  the  yoke  of  her 
interests  and  manners,  protected  and  not  enslaved,  it  was  in 
its  breast  that  that  spirit  of  liberty  was  developed  which  we 
shall  see  burst  forth  towards  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century, 
and  of  which  Abailard  was  then  the  most  illustrious  interpre- 
ter. From  the  eighth  century,  it  mitigated  that  separation 
of  the  clergy  and  the  people  which  was  the  dominant  cha- 
racteristic of  the  epoch,  and  prevented  it  from  bearing  all  its 
fruit. 

2dly.  A  second  fact  concurred  to  the  same  result.  From 
the  time  that  Christianity  became  powerful,  it  was,  as  you 
know,  a  frequent  custom  to  found  and  to  endow  churches. 
The  founder  enjoyed,  in  the  church  which  owed  its  origin  to 
him,  certain  privileges  which,  at  first,  were  purely  honorary ; 
they  inscribed  his  name  in  the  interior  of  the  church,  they 
prayed  for  him,  they  even  granted  him  some  influence  over 
the  choice  of  the  priests  charged  with  the  divine  offices.  It 
happened  that  bishops  wished  to  found  churches  beyond 
their  diocese,  whether  in  their  native  town,  in  the  midst  of 
some  domain,  or  from  some  other  motive.  Their  right  to 
choose  the  priest  called  to  perform  the  duties  was  unhesitat- 
ingly recognized  ;  many  councils  occupied  themselves  in 
regulating  the  exercise  of  this  right,  and  the  relations  of  the 
bishop  who  founded  the  church  with  the  bishop  in  the  diocese 
where  the  foundation  was  situated. 

"  If  a  bishop,"  says  the  council  of  Orange,  "  wishes  to 
build  a  church  in  the  territory  of  a  city,  whether  for  the 
interest  of  his  domains,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Church,  or  for 
any  other  reason,  after  having  obtained  permission  for  this, 
which  cannot  be  denied   him  without  crime,  let   him   not 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  259 

meddle  with  its  consecration,  which  is  absolutely  reserved  to 
the  bishop  of  the  see  where  the  new  church  is  situated. 
But  this  grace  shall  be  granted  to  the  bishop  who  founded  it, 
that  the  bishop  of  the  place  shall  ordain  whatever  priests  the 
founder  may  desire  to  see  in  his  foundation ;  or,  if  they  be 
already  ordained,  the  said  bishop  of  the  place  shall  accept 
them."1 

This  ecclesiastical  patronage  soon  led  to  a  lay  patronage  of 
the  same  nature.  Foundations  by  the  laity  became  more  and 
more  frequent.  Their  conditions  and  forms  were  very 
various.  Sometimes  the  founder  reserved  a  portion  of  the 
revenues  with  which  he  endowed  his  church  ;  he  sometimes 
even  went  so  far  as  to  stipujate  that  he  should  enter  into  a 
participation'  of  the  offerings  which  the  church  should  require 
in  addition ;  so  that  men  founded  and  endowed  churches 
out  of  speculation,  to  run  the  chance  of  their  fortune,  and 
to  associate  themselves  in  their  future  prosperity.  The 
councils  took  measures  against  this  abuse,  but  they  recog- 
nized and  consecrated  the  right  of  the  founders,  whether 
laymen  or  ecclesiastics,  to  influence  the  choice  of  the  official 
priests. 

"  Moved  by  a  pious  compassion,"  say  the  bishops  of  Spain, 
met  in  council  at  Toledo,  "  we  have  decided  that  as  long  as 
the  founders  of  churches  shall  live  they  shall  be  permitted  to 
have  the  care  of  them,  and  they  must  especially  make  it  their 
business  to  present,  for  the  ordination  of  bishops,  worthy 
priests  for  these  churches  ;  if  they  do  not  propose  such,  then 
those  whom  the  bishop  of  the  place  shall  judge  pleasing  to 
God  shall  be  consecrated  to  his  worship,  and,  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  founders,  shall  officiate  in  their  church.  If, 
in  contempt  of  the  founders,  the  bishop  ^performs  an  ordina- 
tion, it  shall  be  null,  and  he  shall  be  constrained,  to  his 
shame,  to  ordain  for  the  place  suitable  persons  chosen  by  the 
founders."* 

By  this  means,  therefore,  the  laity  exercised  a  certain 
influence  in  the  church,  and  took  some  part  in  her  govern 
ment. 


1  Council  of  Orange,  in  441,  c.  20. 

*  Ninth  council  of  Toledo,  held  in  C55,  c.  2.  I  shall  often  cite  tha 
Spanish  councils,  because  they  have  committed  to  writing  more  ex- 
plicitly and  more  clearly  facts  which  took  place  also  in  Gaul. 


260  HISTORY    OF 

3dly.  At  the  same  time,  and  in  proportion  as  the  sociaj 
state  became  a  little  fixed,  the  custom  was  introduced  among 
the  great  proprietors  in  the  country,  and  even  in  the  towns, 
of  instituting  at  home,  in  the  interior  of  their  house,  an  ora- 
tory, a  chapel,  and  of  having  a  priest  to  officiate  in  it.  These 
chaplains  soon  became  the  object  of  lively  solicitude  on  the 
part  of  the  bishops.  They  were  placed  under  the  depend- 
ence of  their  lay  patron  far  more  than  under  that  of  the 
neighboring  bishops ;  they  were  likely  to  participate  in  the 
feelings  of  the  house  where  they  lived,  and  separate  more  or 
less  from  the  church.  This  was,  besides,  a  means  for  the 
powerful  laity  to  procure  the  assistance  of  religion,  and  of 
fulfilling  its  duties  without  depending  wholly  on  the  bishop  of 
the  diocese.  We  accordingly  find  the  councils  of  this  epoch 
carefully  watching  this  non-embodied  clergy,  disseminated  in 
the  lay  society,  and  of  which  they  seemed  to  fear  sometimes 
the  serviture,  somelimes  the  independence. 

"  If  any  one,"  orders  the  council  of  Agde,  "  wishes  to  have 
an  oratory  on  his  own  ground,  besides  the  parish  church,  we 
allow  that  in  ordinary  festivals  he  shall  there  cause  mass  to 
be  said  for  the  accommodation  of  his  own  people ;  but 
Easter,  Christmas,  Epiphany,  Ascension,  Pentecost,  the  birth 
of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  and  all  the  other  days  which  should 
be  held  as  great  festivals,  must  only  be  celebrated  in  cer- 
tain churches.  The  priests  who,  without  the  order  or 
permission  of  the  bishop,  shall,  on  the  above  enumerated  fes- 
tivals, say  or  hear  mass  in  oratories,  shall  be  excluded  from 
the  communion."1 

"  If  rectories,"  says  the  council  of  Orleans,  "  are  established 
in  the  houses  of  powerful  men,  and  the  priests  who  officiate 
there,  warned  by  the  archdeacon  of  the  city,  neglect,  in  favor 
of  the  power  of  the  master  of  the  house,  that  which,  according 
to  the  degree  of  their  order,  is  their  duty  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord,  let  them  be  corrected  according  to  ecclesiastical  dis- 
cipline. And  if  by  the  agents  of  the  lords,  or  by  the  lords 
themselves,  the  said  priests  are  opposed  in  the  performance 
of  any  ecclesiastical  duty,  let  the  authors  of  such  iniquity 
be  removed  from  the  holy  ceremonies  until,  being  amended, 
they  shall  re-enter  into  the  peace  of  the  church."* 

"  Many  of  our  brothers  and  bishops,"  says  likewise  the 


Council  of  Agde,  in  506,  c  21.      2  Council  of  Orleans,  541,  c.  2Q 


CIVILIZATION    IH    FRANCE.  261 

council  of  Chalons,  "  have  complained  to  the  holy  convocation, 
upon  the  subject  of  the  oratories,  long  since  constructed  in 
the  country  houses  of  the  great  men  of  the  state.  Those  to 
whom  these  houses  belong,  dispute  with  the  bishops  property 
which  has  been  given  to  these  oratories,  and  do  not  allow  that 
even  the  priests  who  officiate  in  them  are  under  the  juris- 
diction  of  the  archdeacon ;  it  is  important  that  this  should  be 
reformed :  accordingly,  let  the  property  of  the  oratories,  and 
the  priests  who  officiate  in  them,  be  under  the  power  of  the 
bishop,  in  order  that  he  may  acquit  himself  of  what  is  due  to 
these  oratories  and  to  the  divine  service ;  and  if  any  one 
oppose  himself  thereto,  let  him  be  excommunicated,  according 
to  the  tenor  of  the  ancient  canons."1 

It  was  not  without  reason  that  the  bishops,  having  an  eye 
to  their  power,  looked  upon  this  domestic  clergy  with  so  much 
mistrust :  an  example  of  it  is  met  with  in  modern  times,  which 
shows  us  its  effects.  In  England,  under  the  reign  of  Charles  I., 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolution,  during  the  struggle 
between  the  English  church  and  the  puritan  party,  the 
bishops  drove  from  their  cures  all  the  ecclesiastics  suspected 
of  puritan  opinions.  What  was  the  consequence  ? — the 
gentry,  the  great  proprietors,  who  shared  these  opinions,  took 
into  their  houses,  under  the  name  of  chaplains,  the  expelled 
ministers.  A  large  portion  of  the  clergy  who  were  suspected 
by  the  bishops,  accordingly,  placed  themselves  under  the 
patronage  of  the  lay  society,  and  there  exercised  an  influence 
formidable  to  the  official  clergy.  In  vain  the  English  church 
pursued  her  adversaries,  even  into  the  interior  of  families; 
when  tyranny  is  forced  to  penetrate  so  deep,  it  soon  becomes 
enervated,  or  hastens  towards  its  ruin :  the  inferior  nobility, 
the  high  bourgeoisie  of  England,  defended  their  chaplains 
with  the  most  persevering  energy  ;  they  concealed  them,  they 
changed  them  from  house  to  house ;  they  eluded  or  they  braved 
the  episcopal  anathemas.  The  bishops  might  manoeuvre, 
oppress ;  they  were  no  longer  the  only,  the  necessary  clergy  ; 
the  population  harbored  in  its  breast  a  clergy  foreign  to  the 
legal  church,  and  more  and  more  at  enmity  with  it.  From 
the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the  danger  was  not  the  same  ; 
the  bishops  had  to  fear  neither  schism  nor  insurrection.  Stil . 
the  institution  of  the  chaplains  had  an  analogous  effect :  it 


1  Council  of  Chalons,  in  050,  c.  11. 
26 


262  HISTORY   OF 

tended  to  form  an  inferior  clergy,  less  closely  united  to  th« 
body  of  the  church,  nearer  to  the  laity,  more  disposed  to 
share  their  manners,  in  fine,  to  make  common  cause  with  the 
age  and  the  people.  Accordingly,  they  did  not  cease  atten- 
tively to  overlook  and  curb  the  chaplains.  They,  however, 
by  no  means  destroyed  them  ;  they  dared  not  attempt  it :  the 
development  of  the  feuda]  system  even  gave  to  this  institution 
a  fixity  which  at  first  was  wanting  to  it :  and  this  was  also 
one  of  the  ways  by  which  the  laity  regained  that  influence  in 
the  government  of  the  religious  society,  which  its  legal  and 
.nternal  constitution  refused  to  it. 

4thly.  The  bishops  themselves  were  constrained  to  j>pen 
another  way  to  it.  The  administration  of  the  temporal 
affairs  and  property  of  the  church  was  often  a  source  of 
embarrassment  and  danger  to  them ;  they  had  not  only  differ- 
ences to  decide,  and  suits  to  maintain,  but,  in  the  fearful  dis- 
order of  the  time,  the  property  of  the  church  was  exposed  to 
continual  devastations,  engaged  and  compromised  in  numerous 
quarrels,  in  private  wars ;  and  when  it  was  necessary  to 
make  a  defence,  when  the  church,  in  behalf  of  her  domains 
or  her  rights,  had  some  robbery  to  repel,  some  legal  proof, 
perhaps  even,  in  some  cases,  a  judicial  combat  to  maintain, 
pious  menaces,  exhortations,  excommunications  even  did 
not  always  suffice  ;  she  wanted  temporal  and  worldly  arms. 
In  order  to  procure  them,  she  had  recourse  to  an  expedient. 
For  some  time  past  certain  churches,  especially  in  Africa,  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  selecting  defenders  who,  under  the  name  of 
causidici,  iutores,  vice-domini,  were  charged  with  the  duty  of 
appearing  for  them  before  justice,  and  of  protecting  them  ad- 
versus  potentias  divitum.  An  analogous  necessity,  and  one  far 
more  pressing,  led  the  churches  of  Frankish-Gaul  to  seek 
among  their  neighboring  laity  a  portion  who,  under  the  name 
of  advocatus,  took  their  cause  in  hand  and  became  their  man, 
not  only  in  judicial  disputes,  where  they  had  need  of  him, 
but  against  any  robberies  which  might  threaten  them.  From 
the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the  advocates  of  the  church 
did  not  yet  appear  with  the  development  nor  under  the 
forms  which  they  received  at  a  later  period,  in  the  feudal- 
system  ;  we  do  not  as  yet  distinguish  the  advocati  sagati, 
or  armed,  from  the  advocati  togati,  charged  merely  with  civil 
affairs.  But  the  institution  was  not  the  less  real  and  effica. 
sious  ;  we  find  numerous  churches  choosing  advocates  ;  they 
were  careful  to  take  powerful  and  brave  men  ;  kings  some. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  263 

times  gave  them  to  churches  who  as  yet  had  no  advocates, 
and  the  laity  were  thus  called  in  to  participate  in  the  temporal 
administration  of  the  church,  and  to  exercise  an  important 
influence  over  her  affairs. 

It  was  generally  by  granting  them  certain  privileges,  espe- 
cially in  giving  them  the  usufruct  of  some  domain,  that  the 
churches  thus  solicited  the  support,  and  paid  the  services  of 
some  powerful  neighbor. 

We  may  already  see,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  four 
doors  opened  to  religious  society  to  enter  the  ecclesiastical 
society,  and  there  exercise  some  power ;  the  separation  of  ordi- 
nation and  tonsure,  that  is  to  say,  the  introduction  into  the 
church  of  many  clerks  who  were  not  ecclesiastics  ;  the  rights 
attached  to  the  foundation  and  to  the  patronage  of  churches  ; 
the  institution  of  private  oratories ;  and  lastly,  the  interven 
tion  of  advocates  in  the  administration  of  the  temporal  inte- 
rests of  the  church ;  such  were  the  principal  causes  which,  at 
the  epoch  which  occupies  us,  combated  the  exclusive  domina- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  society  over  religious  society,  and 
weakened  or  retarded  its  effects.  I  might  point  out  many 
others  which  I  omit,  because  they  are  less  general  and  less 
evident.  A  priori,  such  a  fact  was  easy  to  presume  :  this 
separation  of  the  governing  and  the  governed  could  not  be  so 
absolute  as  the  official  institutions  of  the  church  at  this  epoch 
would  lead  us  to  suppose.  If  it  had  been  so,  if  the  body 
of  the  faithful  had  been  strangers  to  the  body  of  priests  to 
such  a  degree,  and  deprived  of  all  influence  over  its  govern- 
ment, the  government,  in  its  turn,  would  have  soon  found 
itself  a  stranger  to  its  people,  and  deprived  of  all  power.  It 
must  not  be  supposed  that  servitude  is  complete  wherever 
the  forms  or  even  the  principles  of  tyranny  are  found.  Pro- 
vidence does  not  permit  evil  to  be  developed  in  all  the  rigor 
of  its  consequences ;  and  human  nature,  often  so  weak,  so 
easily  vanquished  by  whomsoever  wishes  to  oppress  it,  has 
yet  infinite  ability  and  a  wonderful  power  for  escaping  from 
the  yoke  which  it  seems  to  accept.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the  religious 
society  bore  that  of  the  ecclesiastical  society,  and  that  the 
separation  of  the  clergy  and  the  people,  already  a  source  of 
much  evil,  one  day  was  to  cost  both  of  them  dearly ;  but  it 
was  much  less  complete  than  it  appeared  ;  it  only  took  place 
with  a  crowd  of  restrictions  and  modifications  which  alone 
rendered  it  possible,  and  alone  can  explain  them. 


264  HISTORY  OF 

II.  Let  us  now  enter  into  the  bosom  of  ecclesiastical  society 
itself,  and  let  us  see  what  became  of  its  internal  organization 
from  the  fifth  to  the  eighth  century,  especially  of  that  prepon- 
derance of  the  episcopacy  which  in  the  fifth  century  was  its 
dominant  characteristic. 

The  organization  of  the  clergy  at  this  epoch  was  complete, 
and  almost  the  same,  at  least  in  its  essential  forms,  as  it  has 
remained  up  to  modern  times.  I  can  therefore  place  it  before 
you  in  its  ensemble  ;  you  will  so  better  follow  the  variations. 

The  clergy  comprehended  two  orders,  the  minor  orders  and 
the  major  orders.  The  first  were  four  in  number  :  the  aco- 
lytes, the  porters,  the  exorcists,  and  the  readers.  They  called 
major  orders,  the  under-deacons,  the  deacons,  and  the  priests. 
The  inequality  was  great ;  the  four  minor  orders  were  pre- 
served scarcely  more  than  in  name,  and  out  of  respect  for 
ancient  traditions ;  although  they  were  reckoned  as  clergy, 
they  did  not,  truly  speaking,  form  a  part  of  it ;  they  had  not 
imposed  upon  them,  they  were  not  even  recommended  to 
celibacy  :  they  were  looked  upon  rather  as  servants  than 
as  members  of  the  clergy.  When,  therefore,  the  clergy  and 
the  ecclesiastical  government  of  this  epoch  is  spoken  of,  it  is 
only  the  major  orders  that  are  meant. 

Even  in  the  major  orders  the  influence  of  the  first  two 
named,  the  under-deacons  and  deacons,  was  weak  ;  the  dea- 
cons were  occupied  rather  in  administering  the  property  of  the 
church,  and  the  distribution  of  her  alms,  than  in  religious 
government  properly  so  called.  It  is  to  the  order  of  priests, 
truly  speaking,  that  this  government  was  confined ;  neither 
the  minor  orders,  nor  the  two  others  of  the  major  orders,  really 
participated  in  it. 

The  body  of  priests  were  subject,  in  the  first  six  centuries, 
to  numerous  and  important  vicissitudes.  The  bishop,  in  my 
opinion,  ought  to  be  considered  as  its  primitive  and  fundamen- 
tal element ;  not  that  the  same  functions,  the  same  rights, 
have  always  been  indicated  by  this  word ;  the  episcopacy  of 
the  second  century  greatly  differed  from  that  of  the  fourth ;  it 
is  no  less  the  starting  point  of  ecclesiastical  organization.  The 
bishop  was,  originally,  the  inspector,  the  chief  of  the  religious 
congregation  of  each  town.  The  Christian  church  took  birth 
in  towns ;  the  bishops  were  its  first  magistrates. 

When  Christianity  spread  into  the  rural  districts,  the  mu- 
nicipal bishop  no  longer  sufficed.  Then  appeared  the  chore- 
piscopi,  or  rural  bishops,  moving,  ambulatory  bishops,  epis- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE  265 

topi  vagi,  considered,  sometimes  as  the  delegates,  sometimes 
as  the  equals,  the  rivals  even  of  the  metropolitan  bishops,  and 
whom  the  latter  attempted  at  first  to  subject  to  their  power, 
and  afterwards  to  abolish. 

They  succeeded  therein :  the  rural  districts  once  Christian, 
the  chorepiscopi  in  their  turn  no  longer  sufficed :  something 
more  fixed,  more  regular,  was  necessary  ;  something  less  con- 
tested by  the  most  influential  magistrates  of  the  church,  that 
is  to  say,  the  metropolitan  bishops.  Then  parishes  were 
formed ;  each  Christian  agglomeration  at  all  considerable  be- 
came a  parish,  and  had  a  priest  for  its  religious  head,  natur- 
ally subordinate  to  the  bishop  of  the  neighboring  town,  from 
whom  he  received  and  held  all  his  powers ;  for  it  seems  that 
originally  parish  priests  acted  absolutely  only  as  representa- 
tives, as  delegates  of  the  bishops,  and  not  in  virtue  of  their 
own  right. 

The  union  of  all  the  agglomerated  parishes  around  a  town, 
in  a  circumscription  for  a  long  time  vague  and  variable, 
formed  the  diocese. 

After  a  certain  time,  and  in  order  to  bring  more  regularity 
and  completeness  into  the  relations  of  the  diocesan  clergy, 
they  formed  a  small  association  of  many  parishes  under  the 
name  of  the  rural  cliapter,  and  at  the  head  of  the  rural  chap- 
ter was  placed  an  archpriest.  At  a  later  period  many  rural 
chapters  were  united  in  a  new  circumscription  under  the 
name  of  district,  which  was  directed  by  an  archdeacon.  This 
last  institution  had  scarcely  arisen  at  the  epoch  of  which  we 
treat :  it  is  true  that  long  before  we  find  archdeacons  in  the 
dioceses  ;  but  there  was  but  one,  and  he  did  not  preside  over 
a  territorial  circumscription  ;  established  in  an  episcopal  town, 
in  the  same  town  with  the  bishop,  he  took  his  place,  some- 
times in  the  exercise  of  his  jurisdiction,  sometimes  in  the 
visitation  of  the  diocese.  It  was  only  at  the  end  of  the 
seventh,  or,  at  least,  at  the  commencement  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, that  we  see  many  archdeacons  in  the  same  diocese,  re- 
siding at  a  distance  from  the  bishop,  and  each  placed  at  the 
head  of  a  district.  We  still  encounter  at  this  epoch,  in 
Frankish  Gaul,  some  chorepiscopi ;  but  the  name  and  charge 
were  not  long  in  disappearing. 

The  diocesan  organization  was  then  complete  and  defini. 
live.  The  bishop,  as  you  see,  had  been  its  source,  as  he  re- 
mained its  centre.     He  was  much  changed  himself,  but  it 


266  HISTORY   OF 

was  around  him,  and  under  his  influence,  that  almost  all 
other  changes  were  brought  about. 

All  the  dioceses  in  the  civil  province  formed  the  ecclesias- 
tical province,  under  the  direction  of  the  metropolitan  or  arch- 
bishop. The  quality  of  the  archbishop  was  but  the  expres- 
sion of  this  fact.  The  civil  metropolis  was  generally  more 
wealthy,  more  populous  than  the  other  towns  of  the  province  ; 
its  bishop  had  more  influence  ;  people  met  around  him  on  all 
important  occasions ;  his  residence  became  the  chief  place  of 
the  provincial  council ;  he  convoked  it,  and  was  the  president 
of  it ;  he  was  moreover  charged  with  the  confirmation  and 
consecration  of  the  newly  electeu  bishops  of  the  province  ; 
with  receiving  accusations  brought  against  bishops,  and  the 
appeals  from  their  decisions,  and  with  carrying  them,  after 
having  made  a  first  examination,  to  the  provincial  council, 
which  alone  had  the  right  of  judging  them.  The  archbishops 
unceasingly  attempted  to  usurp  this  right,  and  make  a  per- 
sonal power  of  it.  They  often  succeeded ;  but,  in  truth,  as  to 
all  important  circumstances,  it  was  to  the  provincial  council 
that  it  appertained  ;  the  archbishops  were  only  charged  with 
superintending  the  execution  of  it. 

In  some  states  finally,  especially  in  the  east,  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  church  extended  beyond  the  archbishops.  As  they 
had  constituted  parishes  into  the  diocese,  and  the  dioceses 
into  the  province,  they  undertook  to  constitute  provinces  into 
national  churches,  under  the  direction  of  a  patriarch.  The 
undertaking  succeeded  in  Syria,  in  Palestine,  in  Egypt,  in  the 
Eastern  Empire ;  there  was  a  patriarch  at  Antioch,  at  Jeru- 
salem, at  Constantinople  ;  he  was,  with  regard  to  archbishops, 
what  archbishops  were  to  bishops ;  and  the  ecclesiastical  or- 
ganization corresponded  in  all  degrees  of  the  hierarchy  with 
the  political  organization. 

The  same  attempt  took  place  in  the  west,  not  only  on  the 
part  of  the  bishops  of  Rome,  who  labored  at  an  early  period 
to  become  the  patriarchs  of  the  whole  west,  but  independently 
of  their  pretensions,  and  even  against  them.  There  are 
scarcely  any  of  the  states  formed  after  the  invasion,  which 
did  not  attempt,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  to  be- 
come a  national  church,  and  to  have  a  patriarch.  In  Spain, 
the  archbishop  of  Toledo;  in  England,  the  archbishop  of  Can. 
terbury ;  in  Frankish  Gaul,  the  archbishop  of  Aries,  of  Vi. 
enne,  of  Lyons,  of  Bourges,  bore  the  title  of  primate  or  patri. 
arch  of  Gaul,  of  Great  Britain,  of  Spain,  and  attempted  to  ex 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  267 

ercise  all  its  rights.  But  the  attempt  everywhere  failed :  the 
western  states  had  scarcely  taken  rise ;  their  limits,  their 
government,  their  very  existence  were  incessantly  in  ques- 
tion. Gaul,  particularly,  was  divided  between  many  nations, 
and,  in  the  heart  of  each  nation,  between  the  sons  of  the 
kings  ;  the  bishops  of  a  kingdom  were  unwilling  to  acknow- 
ledge the  authority  of  a  foreign  primate ;  the  civil  govern- 
ment was  equally  opposed  to  it.  Besides,  the  bishop  of  Rome, 
already  in  possession  of  great  influence,  even  where  his  offi- 
cial supremacy  was  not  acknowledged,  warmly  contested  the 
establishment  of  the  patriarchs  ;  in  Gaul,  the  principle  upon 
which  he  acted  was  constantly  to  transfer  the  primacy  from 
one  metropolitan  to  another,  so  as  to  prevent  its  remaining  too 
long  attached  to  one  particular  see ;  at  one  time  he  favored 
the  pretensions  to  the  primacy  of  the  metropolitan  of  Vienne, 
then  those  of  the  bishop  of  Aries  ;  at  another  time  ihose  of  the 
bishop  of  Lyons  ;  and  then  again  those  of  the  bishop  of  Sens  ; 
so  as,  by  this  constant  fluctuation  and  uncertainty  in  the  reli- 
gious and  civil  order,  to  prevent  the  institution  from  attaining 
force  or  fixity. 

The  same  causes  which  operated  against  this  particular  in- 
stitution, extended  their  influence  beyond  it ;  in  the  same  way 
that  they  had  prevented  the  system  of  the  patriarchate  from 
taking  root,  they  weakened  and  finally  broke  down  the  archi- 
episcopal  system.  From  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the 
metropolitan  bishops  fell  from  time  to  time  lower  and  lower  ; 
so  that,  at  the  accession  of  the  Carlovingians,  they  could 
hardly  be  said  to  exist  at  all.  The  circumstance  alone  of  the 
parcelling  out  of  Gaul  into  different  states,  was  calculated  to 
be  of  fatal  consequence  to  them.  The  circumscription  of  the 
religious  society  no  longer  agreed  with  that  of  the  civil 
society.  Within  the  province  of  the  archbishop  of  Lyons, 
for  instance,  there  were  bishops  subject  to  the  kingdom  of 
the  Visigoths,  and  to  the  kingdom  of  the  Franks,  and 
who,  on  all  occasions,  eagerly  availed  themselves  of  this 
pretext  for  evading  their  spiritual  superior's  authority, 
quite  certain  of  being  supported  by  the  temporal  sovereign. 
Moreover,  as  you  have  seen,  the  preponderance  of  the  metropo- 
litans was  based  upon  that  of  the  town  in  which  they  respec- 
tively resided,  and  upon  its  former  quality  as  a  metropolis. 
Now,  in  the  general  disorder  occasioned  by  the  invasion,  con. 
siderable  changes  took  place  in  the  relative  importance  of 
towns  ;  rich,  important  cities,  metropoles,  truly  so  called,  be- 
came  poor   and   depopulated.      Others,    on    whom    fortune 


268  HISTORY   OF 

smiled  more  favorably,  acquired  a  wealth  and  population  pre- 
viously unknown  to  them.  With  the  disappearance  from  a 
city  of  its  importance,  disappeared  the  cause  which  had  ren- 
dered its  bishop  a  metropolitan,  and  the  word  metropolitan 
became,  by  degrees,  a  falsehood,  a  circumstance  highly  dan- 
gerous to  the  power  which  it  outwardly  expressed.  Besides, 
it  was  in  the  very  nature  of  the  institution  to  be  assailed  at 
once,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the  bishops,  who  were  not  desirous 
of  having  a  spiritual  superior ;  on  the  other  by  the  bishop  of 
Rome,  who  naturally  wished  to  have  no  rivals ;  the  result 
was  what  might  have  been  expected.  The  bishops  preferring, 
as  their  general  metropolitan,  the  bishop  of  Rome,  who  lived 
at  a  distance,  and  took  care  to  conciliate  them,  not  having 
them  as  yet  within  his  power,  adopted  the  course  of  support- 
ing the  bishop  of  Rome  against  their  more  immediate  metropo- 
litans. Thus  attacked  on  both  sides,  the  metropolitans  daily 
declined  in  influence  and  power ;  the  bishops  ceased  to  pay 
any  attention  to  their  mandates,  or  even  to  thei:1  exhortations ; 
the  body  of  the  church  to  have  recourse  in  any  way  to  their 
intervention ;  and  when,  in  744,  Pepin-le-Bref  consulted  pope 
Zachary  on  the  best  means  of  restoring  order  to  the  confused 
and  agitated  church,  one  of  his  first  questions  was,  what 
course  he  should  adopt  for  procuring  respect  for  the  metropo- 
litans at  the  hands  of  the  bishops  and  parochial  priests. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  whole  government  of  the  church,  at 
this  period,  was  in  the  hands  of  the  bishops  and  of  the  priests  : 
they  were  the  only  members  of  it  who  were  at  all  active  and 
powerful.  What  were  their  mutual  relations?  how  was 
power  divided  between  them  ? 

The  general  manifest  fact  was,  the  exclusive  domination 
and,  we  may  say,  despotism  of  the  bishops.  Let  us  seek 
closely  for  the  causes  of  this  :  it  is  the  best  means  of  properly 
understanding  the  situation  of  the  church 

1.  And  first,  the  fall  of  the  metropolitans  left  the  bishops 
without  superiors,  or  very  nearly  so.  With  the  head  of  the 
ecclesiastical  province  declined  the  provincial  synod,  which  i; 
was  his  privilege  to  assemble  and -preside  over.  These  synods, 
heretofore  the  unquestionable  superiors  of  the  bishops,  to 
which  appeals  were  carried  from  the  decisions  of  the  bishops, 
and  which  took  cognizance  of  all  the  causes  which  the  bishops 
could  not  of  themselves  decide,  became  rare  and  inactive.  In 
the  course  of  the  sixth  century,  there  were  held  in  Gaul  fifty- 
four  councils  of  every  description ;  in  *he  seventh  century. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FEANCE. 


269 


only  twenty ;  in  the  first  half  of  the  eighth  century  only 
seven,  and  five  of  these  were  held  in  Belgium,  or  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine. 


Table  of  the  Gaulish  Councils  of  the  Sixth  Century. 


Date 
506 

507 
511 
515 
516 
517 
517 
517 
524 
527 
529 
529 
529 
530 
533 
535 
538 
540 
541 
545 
549 

549 
550 
550 
554 

555 

555 
557 
563 
567 
567 
573 
575 
577 
578 


579 
579 


Place. 
Agde 

Toulouse 

Orleans 

St.  Maurice 

Lyons. 

Place  uncertain 

Epaonense 

Lyons 

Aries 

Carpentras 

Orange  

Valencia. 

Vaison .-.. 

Angers 

Orleans 

Clermont 

Orleans 

Orleans 

Orleans 

Aries. 

Orleans 

Aries 

Toul. 
Metz. 
Aries 

Place    uncertain    in 
Brittany. 

Paris 

Paris 

Saintes 

Lyons  

Tours 

Paris 

Lyons. 

Paris. 

Auxerre 


Chalons. 
Saintes. 


Present. 

25  bishops,  8  priests,  2  deacons,  re- 
presenting their  bishops 

32  bishops 

4  bishops,  8  counts. 

16  bishops. 

25  bishops. 
11  bishops. 

14  bishops,  4  priesfe. 
19  bishops. 

14  bishops,  8  viri  illustres. 

11  or  12  bishops. 

5  bishops. 

26  bishops,  5  priests. 

15  bishops. 

19  bishops,  7  priests. 

38  bishops,  11  priests,  1  abbot. 

5  bishops,  21  priests,  archdeacons, 

or  abbots 
10  bishops. 


11  bishops,  8  priests,  deacons,  or 
archdeacons. 


27  bishops. 
16  bishops. 

8  bishops,  5  priests,  1  deacon. 
7  bishops. 
32  bishops,  1  priest. 


The  bishop  of  Auxerre,  7  abbots,  34 
priests,  3  deacons,  all  of  the  dio- 
cese of  Auxerre. 


270 


HISTORY    OF 


Table  of  the  Gaulish  Councils  of  the  Sixth  Cent ury— continued. 


Date. 

Place. 

Present. 

580 

Braines. 

581 

Lyons. 

581 
583 

21  bishops. 
8  bishops,  12  delegates  of  bishops. 

584 

Valencia. 

585 

43  bishops,  15  delegates,  16  bishops 
without  sees 

587 

Andelot. 

588 

Clermont. 

588 

Place  uncertain 

589 

Sourcy,  near  Soi^sons. 

5§9 

Chalons. 

589 
590 

7  bis  Hops. 

Upon  the  confines  of 

Auvergne,of  Rouer- 

gue,  and  of  Givau- 

dan. 

590 

Poictiers. 

6  bishops 

590 

Metz. 

591 

Nanterre. 

594 

Chalons. 

Table  of  the  Councils  of  Gaul  in  the  Seventh  Century. 


Date. 

603 

615 
shortly     > 
afterwards  ) 

625 

627 

628 

633 

638 

648 
650  or  645 

650 

658 

664 

669 

670 

670 

679 
684  or  685 

688 
692  or  682 


Place. 

Chalons. 
Paris. 

Place  uncertain 

Rhcims 

Macon. 

Clichy 

Clichy 

Paris 

Bourges. 
Orleans. 

Chalons 

Nantes. 

Paris 

Clichy 

Sens 

Autun. 

Place  uncertain 

In  the  palace  of  the 

king. 
Ibid. 
Rouen 


Present. 


41  bishops. 

Bishops  and  high  laymen. 
15  bishops,  Dagobert,  great  men. 
9  bishops,  Dagobert,  great  men. 


38  bishops,  5  abbots,  1  archdeacon 

25  bishops. 

Bishops  and  great  men. 

30  bishops. 


16  bishops,  4  abbots,  1  legate,  3 
archdeacons,  many  priests  and 
deacons. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  271 

Table  of  the  Councils  of  Gaul  in  the  first  half  of  the  Eighth  Century 


Date. 

729 
742 
743 
744 

746 
748 
752 

Place 

Maestricht. 
In  Germany 
Septines. 

Present. 

23  bishops,  many  priests  and  high 
laymen. 

In  Germany. 

Ibid. 

Vermeric. 

Thus  gradually  freed  from  individual  superiors,  and  from 
assemblies  of  their  equals,  the  bishops  found  themselves  in  an 
almost  entirely  independent  position.  There  was  a  change, 
too,  in  the  system  of  episcopal  elections.  You  have  seen  that 
the  election  by  the  clergy  and  the  people,  although  still  legal 
and  of  frequent  occurrence  at  the  epoch  which  occupies  us, 
was  still  far  more  uncertain  and  far  less  real.  A  foreign 
force,  royalty,  constantly  interfered  therein,  in  order  to  bring 
trouble  and  impotence  into  it :  kings  unceasingly  directly 
nominated  bishops,  despite  the  continual  protestations  of  the 
church,  and,  in  all  cases,  the  elected  required  their  confirma- 
tion. The  ties  which  united  the  bishops  to  their  priests  be- 
came accordingly  very  much  weakened ;  it  was  almost  solely 
by  election  that  the  clergy  influenced  the  episcopacy,  and  this 
influence,  if  it  was  not  destroyed,  was  at  least  enervated  and 
disputed. 

2dly.  There  resulted  from  this  another  circumstance 
which  still  more  separated  the  bishops  from  their  priests : 
when  the  clergy  elected  them,  it  took  them  from  its  own 
bosom  ;  it  selected  men  already  known  and  accredited  in  the 
diocese.  When,  on  the  contrary,  a  crowd  of  bishops  received 
their  title  from  kings,  the  greater  part  arrived  strangers,  un- 
known, alike  without  credit  and  without  affection  among  the 
clergy  whom  they  had  to  govern.  Taken  even  in  the  diocese, 
they  were  there  often  destitute  of  consideration  ;  intriguers 
who  had  succeeded,  by  disgraceful  means,  or  even  by  money, 
in  obtaining  the  royal  preference.  Thus  were  still  farther 
broken  the  ties  which  united  the  bishops  to  the  clergy  ;  thus 
the  episcopal  power,  which  no  longer  possessed  any  superior 
power,  was  alike  released  from  the  influence  of  its  people  j  as 


272  HISTORY    OF 

the  clergy  was  separated  from  the  lay  population,  so  was  tne 
episcopacy  separated  from  the  clergy. 

3dly.  This  is  not  all :  the  clergy  itself  declined  ;  not  only 
did  it  lose  its  power,  but  its  position,  and,  so  to  speak,  its 
quality  was  diminished.  You  have  seen  that,  at  this  epoch, 
a  great  number  of  slaves  entered  into  the  church,  and  by 
what  causes.  The  bishops  soon  perceived  that  a  clergy  thus 
formed  was  without  principle,  without  power,  far  more  easy 
to  govern  and  to  conquer,  if  it  attempt  to  resist.  In  many 
dioceses  they  took  care  to  recruit  it  from  the  same  source,  to 
aid  themselves  the  natural  course  of  things ;  this  origin  of  a 
crowd  of  priests  long  contributed  to  the  sovereignty  of  the 
episcopacy. 

4thly.  Here  we  have  a  fourth  cause,  even  more  powerful 
and  extensive.  The  bishops  were  the  sole  administrators  of 
the  property  of  the  church.  This  property  was  of  two  kinds : 
on  one  side,  foundation  property,  every  day  more  considera- 
ble, for  it  was  under  this  form  that  the  greater  part  of  dona- 
tions to  churches  were  made  ;  on  the  other,  the  offerings  of 
the  faithful  in  the  churches  themselves.  I  shall  say  a  word, 
in  passing,  of  a  third  kind  of  ecclesiastical  revenue,  which  at 
a  later  period  played  an  important  part,  but  which,  at  the 
seventh  century,  was  not  yet  well  established ;  I  mean  the 
tithe.  From  the  earliest  ages,  the  clergy  made  continual 
efforts  to  bring  back  or  to  generalise  this  Hebrew  institution  ; 
it  preached  it,  it  praised  it ;  it  recalled  the  Jewish  traditions 
and  manners.  Two  Gaulish  councils  of  the  sixth  century, 
that  of  Tours,  in  567,  and  that  of  Macon,  in  585,  made  it  the 
subject  of  formal  provisions.  But  they  felt,  by  their  very 
tone,  that  these  dispositions  were  rather  exhortations  than 
laws :  "  We  urgently  caution  you,"  writes  the  council  of 
Tours  to  the  faithful,  "  that,  following  the  examples  of  Abra- 
ham, you  do  not  fail  to  offer  to  God  the  tenth  of  all  your  pro- 
perty, to  the  end  that  you  may  preserve  the  rest  ;5"  and  these 
exhortations  were  of  but  little  effect. 

It  was  at  a  later  period,  and  only  under  the  Carlovingians, 
that,  with  the  aid  of  the  civil  power,  the  clergy  attained  its 
end,  and  rendered  the  tithe  general  and  regular.  At  the 
epoch  of  which  we  treat,  the  foundation  property  and  the 
offerings  were  her  only  revenues.     Now  it  must  not  be  sup- 


i  Labbe,  vol.  v.,  col.  868. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  273 

posed  that  these  revenues  belonged  to  a  particular  church  oi 
parish,  where  the  source  of  them  lay  :  the  produce  of  all  the 
adjacent  domains,  of  all  offerings  received  in  the  diocese, 
formed  a  mass  of  which  the  bishop  alone  had  the  disposition : 

"  Let  the  domains,  estates,  vineyards,  slaves,  the  peculium, 
....  which  are  given  to  parishes,"  says  the  council  of  Or- 
leans, "  remain  in  the  power  of  the  bishop."1  Charged  with 
the  cost  of  dispensing  worship  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
priests,  in  the  whole  diocese,  it  was  the  bishop  who  determined 
the  part  allotted  to  each  parish.  Certain  rules,  it  is  true, 
were  soon  established  with  regard  to  this  matter  :  three  parts 
were  usually  made  of  the  revenues  of  a  parish ;  one  third 
was  appropriated  to  the  priest  who  performed  its  duties; 
another  to  the  expense  of  worship ;  and  a  third  returned  to  the 
bishop.  But  in  spite  of  this  legal  injunction,  often  repeated 
by  the  canons,  the  centralization  of  the  ecclesiastical  reve- 
nues continued  :  the  general  administration  belonged  to  the 
bishop,  and  it  was  easy  to  foresee  the  extension  of  this  means 
of  power. 

5th.  He  disposed  of  persons  almost  as  of  things,  and  the 
liberty  of  the  parish  priests  was  scarcely  better  guaranteed 
than  their  revenue.  The  principle  of  the  servitude  of  the 
glebe,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  was  introduced  into  the 
church :  we  read  in  the  acts  of  the  councils : 

"  It  is  said,  in  the  law  concerning  the  laborers  of  the  field, 
that  each  must  remain  wherever  he  began  to  live.  The 
canons  likewise  order,  that  the  priests  who  work  for  the 
church  remain  where  they  commenced."3 

"  Let  no  bishop  raise  in  degree  a  strange  priest."3 

"  Let  no  one  ordain  a  priest  who  does  not  first  promise  to 
remain  where  he  shall  be  placed."4 

Never  was  power  over  persons  more  expressly  established. 

6th.  The  progress  of  the  political  importance  of  the  bishops 
turned  equally  to  the  profit  of  their  religious  domination. 
They  entered  into  the  national  assemblies ;  they  surrounded 
and  counselled  kings.  How  could  the  poor  priests  struggle 
with  any  advantage  against  such  superiors?  Besides,  such 
was  the  disorder  of  the  times,  and  both  the  difficulty  and  the 


1  Council  of  Orleans,  in  611,  c.  14,  15. 

•  Council  of  Seville,  in  819,  c.  3.   3  Council  0*"  Angers,  in  453,  c.  9 

*  Council  of  Valencia,  in  524,  c.  6. 


274  HISTORY   OF 

necessity  of  maintaining  some  general  tie,  some  unity  in  thft 
administration  of  the  church,  that  the  course  of  things  agree- 
ing with  the  passions  of  men,  tended  to  strengthen  the  central 
power.  The  despotism  of  the  episcopal  aristocracy  prevailed 
by  the  same  causes  which  caused  that  of  the  feudal  aristo- 
cracy to  prevail ;  this  was,  perhaps,  at  this  epoch,  the  com- 
mon and  dominant  want,  the  only  means  of  maintaining 
society. 

But  it  redounds  to  the  honor  and  safety  of  human  nature, 
that  an  evil,  although  inevitable,  is  never  accomplished  with- 
out resistance,  and  that  liberty,  incessantly  protesting  and 
struggling  against  necessity,  prepares  the  enfranchisement, 
even  at  the  moment  that  it  submits  to  the  yoke.  The  bishops 
strangely  abused  their  immense  power :  the  priests,  and  the 
revenues  of  their  diocese,  were  the  prey  to  violences  and 
exactions  of  all  kinds  ;  the  acts  of  the  councils,  composed  of 
bishops  only,  are,  in  this  respect,  the  most  unexceptionable 
testimony. 

"  We  have  learned,"  says  the  council  of  Toledo,  "  that  the 
bishops  treat  their  parishes,  not  episcopally,  but  cruelly ;  and 
while  it  has  been  written  '  neither  as  being  lords  over  God's 
heritage,  but  being  ensamples  to  the  flock,'  they  load  their 
dioceses  with  loss  and  exactions.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
the  things  which  the  bishops  appropriate  to  themselves  are  to 
be  refused  them,  with  the  exception  of  what  the  ancient  insti- 
tutions grant  them  ;  let  the  priests,  whether  parochial  or  dio- 
cesan, who  shall  be  tormented  by  the  bishop,  carry  their  com- 
plaints to  the  metropolitan,  and  let  the  metropolitan  delay  not 
to  repress  such  excesses."1 

"  Those  who  have  already  obtained  ecclesiastical  degrees, 
that  is  to  say,  the  priests,"  says  the  council  of  Braga,  "  must 
in  no  way  be  subject  to  receive  blows,  except  for  grave  and 
deadly  faults.  It  is  not  suitable  that  each  bishop  should,  ac- 
cording to  his  inclination  and  when  it  pleases  him,  strike  with 
blows  and  cause  his  honorable  ministers  to  suffer,  for  fear  he 
lose  the  respect  which  is  his  due  from  those  who  are  subject 
to  him."2 

The  priests  did  not  lose  all  respect  for  the  bishops,  nor  any 
more  did  they  accept  all  their  tyranny.  An  important  fact, 
and  one  too  little  remarked,  is  seen  here  and  there  during  the 


» Council  of  Toledo,  in  5S9,  c.  20,    a  Council  of  Braga,  in  675,  c.  7 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  275 

course  of  this  epoch  :  this  is  the  contest  of  the  parochial 
priests  against  the  bishops.  Three  principal  symptoms  in  the 
acts  of  the  councils  must  not  be  overlooked  : 

1st.  The  parochial  priests,  the  inferior  clerks,  leagued 
among  themselves  to  resist :  they  formed  conjuratios  against 
the  bishops  similar  to  those  conjuratios,  to  those  fraternities 
formed  at  a  later  period  by  the  burghers  against  their  lords. 

"  If  any  priests,  as  has  happened  lately  in  many  places,  at 
the  instigation  of  the  devil-  should  rebel  against  authority, 
unite  in  a  conspiracy,  should  take  a  common  oath  among 
themselves,  or  unite  in  a  common  bond,  let  such  audacity  be 
concealed  under  no  pretext,  and,  the  thing  once  known,  let 
the  bishops,  assembled  in  synod,  punish  the  guilty  according 
to  their  rank  and  quality."1 

"  If  any  priests,  for  the  purpose  of  revolt,  should  combine 
in  a  common  bond,  whether  verbal  or  written,  and  should 
cunningly  lay  snares  for  their  bishop,  and  once  warned  to 
give  up  these  practices  should  refuse  to  obey,  let  them  be  de- 
graded from  their  rank."2 

2d.  The  priests  have  constantly  recourse  against  their 
bishops,  to  the  aid  of  the  laity,  probably  to  that  of  the  lord  of 
the  manor,  or  any  other  powerful  person  in  the  district  with 
whom  they  are  in  connexion.  We  find  this  injunction  re- 
peatedly in  the  acts  of  the  councils : 

"  Let  not  the  priests  rise  up  against  their  bishops  by  the 
aid  of  secular  power."3 

3d.  But  while  repeating  this  prohibition,  while  proscribing 
the  conjurationes  of  the  priests,  the  councils  themselves  en- 
deavored to  apply  some  remedy  to  the  evils  combined  against : 
complaints  were  constantly  addressed  to  them  from  all  quar- 
ters, to  which  they  felt  themselves  compelled  to  pay  atten- 
tion :  a  few  passages  from  their  acts  will  be  more  elucidatory 
on  this  point  than  any  comments  of  ours : 

"  As  some  complaints  have  reached  us,  of  certain  bishops 
having  taken  possession  of  things  given  by  the  faithful  for 
the  use  of  their  parishes,  so  that  little  or  nothing  is  left  to  the 
churches  upon  which  these  gifts  were  really  bestowed,  it  has 


«  Council  of  Orleans,  in  538,  c.  28. 

*  Council  of  Rheims  in  625,  c.  2  ;  see  also  the  council  of  Narbonno, 
•a  589,  c.  5. 

•  Council  of  Clermont,  in  535,  c.  4. 


276  HlSTORi"    OF 

appeared  to  us  just  and  reasonable,  and  we  hereby  declare 
that,  if  the  church  of  the  city  wherein  the  bishop  resides  is 
so  well  provided,  that,  by  the  grace  of  Christ,  it  wants  for 
nothing,  all  that  remains  to  the  parishes  should  be  distributed 
among  the  clerks  who  officiate  in  them,  or  employed  in  re- 
pairing their  churches.  But  if  the  bishop  is  involved  in 
much  expense,  without  sufficient  revenue  to  meet  it,  there 
shall  be  given  to  the  richer  parishes  that  which  is  fitting  and 
reasonable,  whether  for  priests,  or  for  the  support  of  the 
buildings,  and  let  the  bishop  appropriate  the  surplus  to  his 
own  use,  in  order  that  he  may  provide  for  his  expenses."1 

"  If  offerings  have  been  made  to  the  basilicas  established  in 
cities,  of  lands,  goods,  or  any  other  things  whatsoever,  let 
them  be  at  the  disposition  of  the  bishop,  and  let  them  be  free 
to  employ  what  is  suitable,  whether  in  the  repair  of  the  basi- 
lica, or  in  the  support  of  priests  who  officiate  in  it.  With  re- 
gard to  parochial  property  or  basilicas  established  in  boroughs, 
dependent  upon  cities,  let  the  custom  of  each  place  be  ob- 
served." 2 

"  It  has  been  decided  that  no  bishop,  in  the  visitation  of  his 
diocese,  shall  receive  from  any  church  anything  beyond  what 
is  due  to  him,  as  a  mark  of  honor  to  his  see  ;  he  shall  not 
take  the  third  of  all  the  offerings  of  the  people  in  the  parish 
churches,  but  this  third  shall  remain  for  the  lighting  and  re- 
pairs of  the  churches ;  and  each  year  the  bishop  shall  have 
an  account  of  it.  For  if  the  bishop  take  this  third,  he  robs 
the  church  of  its  light  and  the  support  of  its  roof."3 

"  Avarice  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  and  this  guilty  thirst  seizes 
even  the  hearts  of  the  bishops.  Many  of  fhe  faithful,  from 
love  for  Christ  and  the  martyrs,  raise  basilicas  in  the  parishes 
of  the  bishops,  and  deposit  offerings  therein ;  but  the  bishops 
seize  upon  them  and  turn  them  to  their  own  use.  Thence  it 
follows  that  priests  are  wanting  to  perform  Divine  service, 
because  they  do  not  receive  their  fees.  Dilapidated  cathe- 
drals are  not  repaired  because  sacerdotal  avarice  has  carried 
off  all  the  funds.  The  present  orders,  therefore,  that  bishops 
govern  their  churches  without  receiving  more  than  is  due  to 
them  according  to  the  ancient  decrees,  that  is  to  say,  the  third 
of  the  offerings  and  of  the  parochial  revenues ;  if  they  take 


1  Council  of  Carpentras,  in  527.        Council  of  Orleans,  in  533,  c.  5 
*  Council  of  Braga.  in  572,  c.  2. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  271 

more  than  this,  the  council  will  cause  it  to  be  returned  on  the 
demand  of  either  the  founders  of  the  church  themselves  if 
they  be  living,  or  of  their  descendants.  Nevertheless,  the 
founders  of  churches  are  not  to  suppose  that  they  retain  any 
power  whatever  over  the  property  with  which  they  have  en- 
dowed the  said  churches,  seeing  that  according  to  the  canons, 
not  only  the  church  itself,  but  the  property  with  which  it  is 
endowed,  is  under  the  jurisdiction,  duly  administered,  of  the 
bishop."! 

"  Among  the  things  which  it  behoves  us  to  regulate  by 
common  consent,  it  is  more  especially  necessary  to  meet  dis- 
creetly, the  complaints  of  the  parochial  priests  of  the  province 
of  Galacia,  touching  the  rapacity  of  their  bishops,  which  has 
grown  to  such  a  height  as  to  compel  the  priests  to  demand 
public  inquiry  into  them ;  such  inquiry  having  been  made,  it 
has  clearly  resulted  that  these  bishops  overwhelm  their  paro- 
chial churches  with  their  exactions ;  and  that  while  they 
themselves  wallow  in  luxury,  they  have  brought  many  of  the 
churches  to  the  verge  of  ruin  ;  in  order  to  put  a  stop  to  such 
abuses  we  order  that,  according  to  the  regulations  of  the 
synod  of  Braga,  each  of  the  bishops  of  the  said  province  shall 
receive  annually  from  each  of  the  churches  in  his  diocese  the 
sum  of  two  solid?,2  and  no  more.  And  when  the  bishop  visits 
his  diocese,  let  him  be  burdensome  to  no  one  from  the  multi- 
tude of  his  attendants,  let  him  have  no  more  than  five  car- 
riages with  him,  and  let  him  stay  no  longer  than  one  day  at 
each  church."3 

The  extracts  here  given  are  amply  sufficient  to  prove  the 
oppression  and  the  resistance,  the  evil  and  the  attempt  to  reme- 
dy it ; — the  resistance  was  abortive,  the  remedy  ineffectual : 
episcopal  despotism  continued  to  take  deeper  and  wider  root. 
Thus,  at  the  commencement  of  the  eighth  century,  the  church 
had  fallen  into  a  etate  of  disorder  almost  equal  to  that  preva- 
lent in  civil  society.  Without  superiors,  without  inferiors  at 
all  to  be  dreaded — relieved  from  the  superintendence  of  the 
metropolitans  and  of  the  councils,  rejecting  the  influence  of 
the  priests — a  crowd  of  bishops  were  seen  yielding  themselves 
up  to  the  most  scandalous  excesses.  Masters  of  the  ever  in- 
creasing wealth  of  the  church,  ranking  amongst  the  great 


>  Council  of  Toledo,  in  G38,  c.  33  *  About  :* 

*  Council  of  Toledo,  in  646,  c.  4. 


278  HISTORY    OF 

landed  proprietors,  they  adopted  their  interests  and  their  man 
ners ;  they  relinquished  their  ecclesiastical  character  and  led 
a  wholly  secular  life ;  they  kept  hounds  and  falcons,  they  wenl 
from  place  to  place  surrounded  by  an  armed  retinue,  the} 
took  part  in  the  national  warfare ;  nay  more,  they  undertook, 
from  time  to  time,  expeditions  of  violence  and  rapine  against 
their  neighbors  on  their  own  account.  A  crisis  was  inevita- 
ble: everything  prepared  the  necessity  foi  reformation,  every  • 
thing  proclaimed  it,  and  you  will  -see  that  in  point  of  fact, 
snortly  after  the  accession  of  the  Carlovingians,  an  attempt 
at  reformation  was  made  by  the  civil  power,  but  the  church 
herself  contained  the  germ  of  a  remedy :  side  by  side  with 
the  secular  clergy,  there  had  been  rising  up  another  order, 
influenced  by  other  principles,  animated  with  another  spirit, 
and  which  seemed  destined  to  prevent  that  dissolution  with 
which  the  church  was  menaced ;  I  speak  of  the  monks. 
Their  history  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century  will  be  the 
object  of  our  next  lecture. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  279 


FOURTEENTH  LECTURE 

History  of  the  regular  clergy,  or  the  monks,  from  the  sixth  to  th« 
eighth  century — That  the  monks  were  at  first  laymen — Importance 
of  this  fact — Origin  and  progressive  development  of  the  monastic 
life  in  the  east — First  rules — Importation  of  the  monks  into  the  west 
— They  are  ill  received  there — Their  first  progress — Difference  be- 
tween eastern  and  western  monasteries — Opinion  of  Saint  Jeron.e, 
as  to  the  errors  of  the  monastic  life — General  causes  of  its  extension 
— State  of  the  monks  in  the  west  in  the  fifth  century — Their  power 
and  their  want  of  coherence — Saint  Benedict — His  life — He  founds 
the  monastery  of  Monte  Cassino — Analysis  and  estimate  of  his  rule  ' 
— It  diffuses  itself  throughout  the  west,  and  becomes  predominant 
in  almost  all  the  monasteries  there. 

Since  we  resumed  the  history  of  religious  society  in  Frank- 
ish  Gaul,  we  have  considered  :  1,  the  general  dominant  fact 
which  characterized  the  church  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth 
century — that  is  to  say,  its  unity  ;  2,  its  relations  with  the 
state  ;  3,  its  internal  organization,  the  mutual  position  of  the 
governors  and  the  governed,  the  constitution  of  the  govern, 
ment — that  is  to  say,  of  the  clergy. 

We  have  seen  that,  towards  the  middle  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, the  government  of  the  church,  the  clergy,  had  fallen 
into  a  state  of  great  disorder  and  decay.  We  have  recog- 
nized a  crisis,  the  necessity  for  reformation  ;  I  mentioned  to 
you  that  a  principle  of  reform  already  existed  in  the  bosom  of 
the  clergy  itself;  I  named  the  regular  clergy,  the  monks  ;  it 
is  with  their  history  of  the  same  period  that  we  are  now  about 
to  occupy  ourselves. 

The  term,  regular  clergy,  is  calculated  to  produce  an  illu- 
sory effect ;  it  gives  one  the  idea  that  the  monks  have  always 
been  ecclesiastics,  have  always  essentially  formed  a  part  of 
the  clergy,  and  this  is,  in  point  of  fact,  the  general  notion 
which  has  been  applied  to  them  indiscriminately,  without  re. 
gard  to  time,  or  place,  or  to  the  successive  modifications  of  the 
institution.  And  not  only  are  monks  'regarded  as  ecclesias- 
tics, but  they  are  by  many  people  considered  as,  so  to  speak, 
the  most  ecclesiastical  of  all  ecclesiastics,  as  the  most  com- 
pletely of  all  olerical  bodies  separated  from  civil  society,  as 
the  most  estranged  from  its  interests  and  from  its  manners. 


28C  HIST0KY   OF 

This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  impression  which  the  mere  men 
tion  of  their  name  at  present,  and  for  a  long  time  past,  natu 
rally  arouses  in  the  mind ;  it  is  an  impression  full  of  error ; 
at  their  origin,  and  for  at  least  two  centuries  afterwards,  the 
monks  were  not  ecclesiastics  at  all ;  they  were  mere  laymen, 
united  together  indeed  by  a  common  religious  creed,  in  a  com- 
mon religious  sentiment,  and  with  a  common  religious  object, 
but  altogether  apart  from  the  ecclesiastical  society,  from  the 
clergy,  especially  so  called. 

And  not  only  was  such  the  nature  of  the  institution  at  its 
origin,  but  this  primitive  character,  which  is  so  generally  un- 
heeded, has  prominently  influenced  its  whole  history,  and 
alone  enables  us  to  comprehend  its  vicissitudes.  I  have 
.already  made  some  remarks  upon  the  establishment  of  monas- 
teries in  the  west,  more  especially  in  the  south  of  Gaul .  I 
will  now,  in  renewing  the  subject,  trace  back  the  facts  to  their 
remotest  sources,  and  follow  them  more  closely  in  their  de- 
velopment. 

You  are  all  aware  it  was  in  the  east  that  the  monks  took 
their  rise.  The  form  in  which  they  first  appeared,  was  very 
different  from  that  which  they  afterwards  assumed,  and  in 
which  the  mind  is  accustomed  to  view  them.  In  the  earlier 
years  of  Christianity,  a  few  men  of  more  excitable  imagina- 
tions than  their  fellows,  imposed  upon  themselves  all  sorts  of 
sacrifices  and  of  extraordinary  personal  austerities  ;  this,  how- 
ever, was  no  Christian  innovation,  for  we  find  it,  not  only  in 
a  general  tendency  of  human  nature,  but  in  the  religious 
manners  of  the  entire  east,  and  in  several  Jewish  traditions. 
The  ascetes  (this  was  the  name  first  given  to  these  pious 
enthusiasts  ;  a^cty,  exercises,  ascetic  life)  were  the  first  form 
of  monks.  They  did  not  segregate,  in  the  first  instance,  from 
civil  society ;  they  di'.d  not  retire  into  the  deserts  :  they  only 
condemned  themselves  to  fasting,  silence,  to  all  sorts  of  aus- 
terities, more  especially  to  celibacy. 

Soon  afterwards  they  retired  from  the  world  :  they  went  ic 
live  far  from  mankind,  absolutely  alone,  amidst  woods  and 
deserts,  in  the  depths  of  the  Theba'id.  The  ascetes  became 
hermits,  anchorites  ;  this  was  the  second  form  of  the  monastic 
life. 

AAer  some  time,  from  causes  which  have  left  no  traces  be- 
hind them — yielding,  perhaps,  to  the  powerful  attraction  of 
Borne  more  peculiarly  celebrated  hermit,  of  Saint  Anthony, 
for  instance,  or  perhaps  simply  tired  of  complete  isolation; 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  281 

the  anchorites  collected  together,  built  their  huts  side  by  side, 
and  while  continuing  to  live  each  in  his  own  abode,  performed 
their  religious  exercises  together,  and  began  to  form  a  regular 
community.  It  was  at  this  time,  as  it  would  seem,  that  they 
first  received  the  name  of  monks.1 

By  and  bye  they  made  a  further  step  ;  instead  of  remaining 
in  separate  huts,  they  collected  in  one  edifice,  under  one  roof : 
the  association  was  more  closely  knit,  the  common  life  more 
complete.  They  became  cenobites  ;2  this  was  the  fourth  form 
of  the  monastic  institution,  its  definitive  from,  that  to  which 
all  its  subsequent  developments  were  to  adapt  themselves. 

At  about  this  period  we  see  arising,  for  the  conduct  of 
these  houses  of  cenobites,  for  these  monasteries,  a  certain  dis- 
cipline mutually  agreed  upon,  certain  written  rules,  directing , 
the  exercises  of  these  small  societies,  and  laying  down  the 
obligations  of  their  members ;  among  these  primitive  rules 
of  the  eastern  monks,  the  most  celebrated  are  those  of  Saint 
Anthony,  Saint  Macharius,  .Saint  Hilarius,  and  Saint  Paco- 
mus ;  all  these  rules  are  brief  and  general,  directed  to  a  few 
leading  circumstances  of  life,  but  without  any  pretension  to 
govern  the  whole  life  ;  they  are  precepts,  in  fact,  rather  than 
rules,  customs,  rather  than  laws.  The  ascetes,  the  hermits, 
and  the  other  different  classes  of  monks,  continued  to  subsist, 
concurrently  with  the  cenobites,  in  all  the  independence  of 
their  first  condition. 

The  spectacle  of  such  a  life,  of  so  much  rigidity  and  en- 
thusiasm, of  sacrifice  and  of  liberty,  strongly  excited  the 
imagination  of  the  people.  The  monks  were  multiplied  with 
a  prodigious  rapidity,  and  varied  to  infinity.  As  you  may 
suppose,  I  shall  not  enter  into  the  detail  of  all  the  forms 
which,  under  this  name,  were  taken  by  the  exaltation  of  the 
faithful ;  I  shall  only  indicate  the  extreme  terms,  so  to  speak, 
>f  the  career  which  it  ran  through,  and  its  two  effects,  at  once 
•he  most  strange  and  the  most  various.  While,  under  the 
name  of  Messalians,  or  o^ira,  numerous  bands  of  fanatics 
overran  Mesopotamia,  Armenia,  &c,  rejecting  the  legal  wor- 
ship, merely  celebrating  irregular  spontaneous  prayer,  and 
abandoning  themselves  in  the  towns,  upon  public  plocesj  to 
all  sorts  of  extravagances ;  others,  in  order  to  separata  th*oi. 


>  Monachus,  povaxof,  from  povot,  alone. 
•  Cenobitae,  toivofltoi,  from  koivos,  common, 


and  fiiof,  life 


282  HISTORY    OF 

pelves  more  completely  from  all  human  intercourse,  esta. 
blished  themselves,  after  the  example  of  Sair.t  Simeon  of 
Antioch,  on  the  summit  of  a  column,  and  under  the  name  of 
stylites,  devoted  their  life  to  this  fantastical  isolation;  and 
neither  one  nor  the  other  were  in  want  of  admirers  and 
imitators.1 

In  the  last  half  of  the  fourth  century,  the  rule  of  Saint 
Basil  brought  some  regularity  into  the  new  institution. 
Digested  into  the  form  of  answers  to  questions  of  all  kinds/ 
it  soon  became  the  general  discipline  of  the  monasteries  of  the 
west — of  all  those,  at  least,  which  had  neither  any  entirety  nor 
fixity.  Such  could  not  fail  to  be.  the  result  of  the  influence 
of  the  secular  clergy  over  the  monastic  life,  of  which  the  most 
illustrious  bishops,  Saint  Athanasius,  Saint  Basil,  Saint 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  and  numerous  others,  then  declared 
themselves  the  patrons.  This  patronage  could  not  fail  to 
introduce  into  it  more  order  and  system.  Still,  the  monaste- 
ries remained  purely  lay  associations — strangers  to  the  clergy, 
to  its  functions,  to  its  rights.  For  the  monks,  there  was  no 
ordination,  no  ecclesiastical  engagements.  Their  dominant 
characteristic  was  always  religious  exaltation  and  liberty. 
They  entered  into  the  association,  they  went  out  from  it,  they 
chose  their  own  abode,  their  own  austerities ;  enthusiasm  took 
the  form  and  entered  the  path  which  pleased  it.  The  monks, 
in  a  word,  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  priests,  except 
their  doctrines  and  the  respect  with  which  they  inspired  the 
population. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  monastic  institution  in  the  east 
at  the  last  half  of  the  fourth  century.  It  was  somewhere 
about  this  period  that  it  was  introduced  into  the  west.  Saint 
Athanasius,  driven  from  his  see,  retired  to  Rome  ;3  he  took 
there  with  him  some  monks,  and  there  celebrated  their  virtues 
and  glory.  His  accounts,  and  the  spectacle  offered  by  the 
first  monks,  or  those  who  followed  their  example,  were  ill 
received  by  the  western  population.  Paganism  was  still 
very  strong  in  the  west,  especially  in  Italy.  The  superior 
classes  who  had  abandoned  its  doctrines  wished  at  least  to 
preserve  its  manners,  and  a  part  of  the  inferior  orders  still 


1  There  were  stylites  in  the  east  down  to  the  twelfth  century. 
» It  contained  203  questions,  and  as  many  answers. 
•  In  341. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  283 

preserved  its  prejudices.  The  monks,  at  their  first  appear- 
ance, were  then  an  object  of  contempt  and  of  anger.  At  the 
funeral  of  Blesilla,  a  young  Roman  nun,  who  died,  it  was 
said,  from  excessive  fasting,  in  384,  the  people  cried :  "  When 
will  they  drive  this  detestable  race  of  monks  from  the  town  ? 
Why  do  they  not  stone  them  ?  Why  don't  they  throw  them 
into  the  river  ?"  It  is  St.  Jerome  who  records  these  popular 
ebullitions.1 

"  In  the  cities  of  Africa,"  says  Salvienus,  "  and  more  espe- 
cially in  Carthage,  no  sooner  did  a  man  in  a  cloak  make  his 
appearance,  pale,  and  with  his  head  shaved,  than  the  miser- 
able infidel  populace  assailed  him  with  curses  and  abuse  ; 
and  if  some  servant  of  God,  from  the  monasteries  of  Egypt,  or 
the  holy  city  of  Jerusalem,  or  the  venerable  retreat  of  some 
hermitage,  proceeded  to  that  city  to  fulfil  some  pious  duty,  the 
people  pursued  him  with  odious  insults,  ridiculing  and  hissing 
him.2 

I  have  already  mentioned  Rutilius  Numatianus,  a  Gaulish 
poet,  who  resided  for  a  long  time  at  Rome,  and  has  left  us  a 
poem,  celebrating  his  return  to  his  native  country ;  in  the 
course  of  this  poem,  he  says,  in  reference  to  the  Isle  of 
Gorgon  a : 

"  I  detest  those  rocks,  scene  of  the  recent  shipwreck  of  one 
I  hold  dear :  it  was  there  a  fellow-townsman  of  my  own  de- 
scended living  into  the  tomb.  He  was  one  of  our  own  nobles, 
possessor  of  a  splendid  fortune,  blessed  in  a  happy  and  dig- 
nified marriage ;  but,  impelled  by  madness,  he  abandoned 
God  and  men,  and  now,  a  credulous  exile,  foolishly  takes 
delight  in  a  foul  retreat  in  this  island.  Unfortunate  man, 
who  seeks  celestial  food  amidst  filthy  garbage,  and,  more  cruel 
to  himself  than  are  his  ofiended  gods,  persists  in  his  miserable 
solitude.  This  Christian  sect,  with  its  delusions,  is  more  fatal 
than  are  the  poisons  of  Circe  :  these  only  change  the  body  ; 
that  perverts  the  mind."3 

Rutilius,  I  admit,  was  a  pagan,  but  numbers  of  men  in  the 
west  were  so  too,  and  received  the  same  impressions. 

Meantime,  the  revolution  which  had  filled  the  east  with 
monks,  pursued  its  course  in  the  west,  bringing  about  gra- 
dually the  same  results.     Paganism  after  awhile  disappeared, 


»  Letters  to  Paul,  Lett.  22,  al.  25. 

•  Jk  Gtibernatione  Dei,  viii.,  4.  s  Itin.  i.,  517. 


284  HISTORY   OF 

and  the  new  creed,  the  new  manners,  took  possessior.  of 
society  at  large ;  and  the  monastic  life,  as  in  the  east,  had 
soon  the  greatest  bishops  for  patrons,  the  whole  population 
for  admirers.  St.  Ambrose  at-  Milan,  St.  Martin  at  Tours, 
St.  Augustin  in  Africa,  celebrated  its  praises,  and  themselves 
founded  monasteries.  St.  Augustin  drew  up  a  sort  of  rule 
for  the  nuns  of  his  diocese,  and  ere  long  the  institution  was  in 
full  vigor  throughout  the  west. 

It  assumed  there,  however,  from  the  outset,  as  I  have 
already  had  occasion  to  observe,  a  peculiar  character.  Un- 
doubtedly the  original  desire  was  to  imitate  what  had  taken 
place  in  the  east,  and  minute  inquiries  were  made  into  the 
discipline  and  manners  of  the  eastern  monasteries ;  a  descrip- 
tion of  these,  as  you  are  aware,  formed  the  materials  of  two 
books,  published  at  Marseilles  by  Cassienus ;  and  in  the 
establishment  of  many  of  the  new  monasteries,  great  pains 
weie  taken  to  conform  to  them.  But  the  genius  of  the 
western  character  differed  far  too  widely  from  that  of  the 
east  for  the  difference  not  to  be  stamped  upon  the  respective 
regulations.  The  desire  for  retirement,  for  contemplation, 
for  a  marked  rupture  with  civil  society,  was  the  source  and 
fundamental  trait  of  the  eastern  monks  :  in  the  west,  on  the 
contrary,  and  especially  in  southern  Gaul,  where,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  fifth  century,  the  principal  monasteries 
were  founded,  it  was  in  order  to  live  in  common,  with  a  view 
to  conversation  as  well  as  to  religious  edification,  that  the  first 
monks  met.  The  monasteries  of  Lerens,  of  Saint  Victor,  and 
many  others,  were  especially  great  schools  of  theology,  the 
focuses  of  intellectual  movement.  It  was  by  no  means  with 
solitude  or  with  mortification,  but  with  discussion  and  activity, 
that  they  there  concerned  themselves. 

And  not  only  was  this  diversity  of  situation  and  turn  of 
mind  in  the  east  and  west  real,  but  contemporaries  them- 
selves observed  it,  paid  attention  to  it ;  and  in  laboring  to 
extend  the  monastic  institution  in  the  west,  clear-sighted 
men  took  care  to  say  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  servilely 
imitate  the  east,  and  to  explain  the  reasons  why.  In  point  of 
fasts  and  austerities,  the  rules  of  the  western  monasteries 
were,  in  general,  less  rigid.  "  Much  eating,"  said  Sulpicius 
Severus,  "  is  gormandizing  among  the  Greeks,  natural  among 
the  Gauls."1 

1  Sulp.  Sev.,  Dial,  i.,  8. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  283 

"  The  rigor  of  winter,"  says  Cassien  also,  "  does  not  permit 
us  to  be  contented  with  light  stockings,  nor  with  a  coat  with- 
out sleeves,  nor  with  a  mere  tunic ;  and  he  who  shall  present 
himself  clothed  in  a  small  cloak,  or  in  a  thin  mantle  of  goat's 
hair,  will  be  laughed  at  instead  of  edifying.'51 

Another  cause  no  less  contributed  to  give  a  new  direction 
to  the  monastic  institution  in  the  west.  It  was  only  in  the 
first  half  of  the  fifth  century  that  it  spread  and  really  esta- 
blished itself  there.  Now,  at  this  epoch,  the  monasteries  of  the 
east  had  already  taken  their  full  development ;  a.11  the  extrava- 
gances of  ascetic  exaltation  had  already  there  given  a  spec- 
tacle to  the  world.  The  great  bishops  of  the  west,  the  chiefs 
of  the  church  and  of  mind  in  Europe,  whatever  their  religious 
ardor,  were  struck  by  these  excesses  of  the  rising  monachism, 
the  acts  of  folly  to  which  it  led,  the  vices  which  it  often  covered. 
Certainly  no  native  of  the  west  had  more  religious  enthu- 
siasm, a  more  lively,  more  oriental  imagination,  nor  a  more 
fiery  character,  than  Saint  Jerome.  He  was,  however,  by  no 
means  blind  to  the  faults  and  dangers  of  the  monastic  life, 
such  as  it  was  offered  by  the  east.  I  will  read  some  pas- 
sages in  which  he  expresses  his  thoughts  upon  this  subject ; 
they  are  among  the  number  of  the  most  interesting  docu 
ments  of  the  period,  and  which  give  us  the  best  information 
upon  it.  "  There  are  monks,"  says  he,  "  who,  from  the 
dampness  of  the  cells,  from  immoderate  fasts,  from  the  weari. 
ness  of  solitude,  from  excess  of  reading,  fall  into  melancholy, 
and  have  more  need  of  the  remedies  of  Hippocrates,  than 
of  our  advice  ...  I  have  seen  persons  of  both  sexes,  in  whom 
the  understanding  has  been  affected  with  too  much  abstinence, 
especially  among  those  who  live  in  cold  and  damp  cells ; 
they  no  longer  knew  what  they  did,  nor  how  to  conduct 
themselves,  nor  when  they  should  speak,  nor  when  keep 
silence,"2 

And  elsewhere  : — 

(<  I  have  seen  men  who,  renouncing  the  age  only  in  habits 
and  name,  have  changed  nothing  of  their  old  way  of  life. 
Their  fortune  is  rather  increased  than  diminished.  They 
have  the  same  cohorts  of  slaves,  the  same  pomp  of  banquets. 


l  Cassien,  de  Instil,  canob.,  1.  ii. 

a  Saint  Jerome,  lett.   93  (a/.  4),  ad  Rustic.um,  97  (a/.  8),  ad  D#- 
metriadem. 

27 


286  HISTORY   OF 

It  is  gold  that  they  eat  upon  miseiable  diehes  of  delf  01 
clay  ;  and  amid  the  swarms  of  their  servants,  they  have  them- 
selves called  solitaries."1 

"  Avoid  also  men  whom  thou  shalt  see  loaded  with  chains, 
with  the  beard  of  a  goat,  a  black  cloak,  and  feet  naked  in 
spite  of  cold  .  .  .  They  enter  into  the  houses  of  the  nobles'  • 
they  deceive  poor  women  loaded  with  sins ;  they  are  always 
learning,  and  never  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  truth  ;  they 
feign  sorrow,  and,  apparently  abandoned  to  long  fasts,  they 
make  amends  at  night  by  secret  feasts."2 

And  again  : — 

"  I  blush  to  say  it,  from  the  bottom  of  our  cells  we  condemn 
the  world  ;  while  rolling  in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  we  pronounce 
our  sentences  upon  bishops.  What  means  this  pride  of  a 
king  under  the  tunic  of  a  penitent  ?  .  .  .  .  Pride  quickly 
creeps  into  solitude  :  that  man  has  fasted  a  little ;  he  has 
seen  no  one ;  he  already  thinks  himself  a  weighty  personage  ; 
he  forgets  what  he  is,  whence  he  came,  where  he  goes ;  and 
his  heart  and  language  already  wander  on  all  sides.  Contrary 
to  the  will  of  the  apostle,  he  judges  other  people's  servants ; 
he  goes  wherever  his  gluttony  leads  him ;  he  sleeps  as  long 
and  as  often  as  he  pleases ;  he  respects  no  one ;  he  does  what- 
ever he  chooses ;  he  looks  down  on  every  one  else  as  inferior 
from  himself ;  he  is  oftener  out  in  the  town  than  in  his  cell, 
and  while  he  affects  retiring  modesty  amongst  his  brethren, 
in  the  publio  streets  he  thrusts  himself  against  any  pas- 
senger."3 

Thus,  the  most  impassioned,  the  most  enthusiastic  of  tue 
fathers  of  the  west  was  not  unacquainted  either  with  the 
insanity,  hypocrisy,  or  the  intolerable  pride  which  from  that 
time  the  monastic  life  gave  birth  to ;  and  characterized  them 
with  that  indignant  good  sense,  that  satirical  and  passionate 
eloquence  which  is  his  characteristic  ;  and  he  denounced  them 
loudly,  for  fear  of  the  contagion. 

Many  of  the  most  illustrious  bishops  of  the  west,  Saint 
Augustin  among  others,  had  the  same  foresight,  and  wrote  in 
the  same  strain  ;  they  also  applied  themselves  to  the  preven. 


1  Saint  Jerome,  lett.  95  (al.  7),  ad  Rusticum. 
9  Saint  Jerome,  lett.  18  (al.  22),  ad  Eustoehium. 
3  Saint  Jerome,  lett.  15  (al.  77),  adMarcum;  97  (al.  4),  ad  Rut 
ticum. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  287 

Hon  of  the  absurd  extravagances  into  which  the  monks  ot 
the  east  had  failen.  But  in  attending  to  this,  in  marking 
the  insanity  or  hypocrisy  of  which  the  monastic  life  served  as 
the  groundwork,  they  incessantly  labored  to  propagate  it. 
It  was  a  means  for  them  of  drawing  away  from  pagan  civil 
society,  always  the  same  in  fact,  despite  its  apparent  con- 
versation, a  portion  of  the  laity.  Without  entering  into  the 
clergy,  the  monks  followed  the  same  path,  served  the  same 
influence ;  the  patronage  of  the  bishops  could  not  be  wanting 
to  them.  Had  it  been  wanting  to  them,  their  progress  pro- 
bably would  not  have  been  diminished.  It  was  not  to  any 
ecclesiastical  combination,  nor  even  to  the  movement  and  the 
particular  direction  that  Christianity  might  impress  upon 
men's  imaginations,  that  the  monastic  life  owed  its  origin. 
The  general  state  of  society  at  this  epoch,  was  its  true  source. 
It  was  tainted  with  three  vices,  idleness,  corruption,  and  un- 
happiness.  Men  were  unoccupied,  perverted,  and  a  prey  to  all 
kinds  of  miseries ;  this  is  the  reason  that  we  find  so  many 
turning  monks.  A  laborious,  honest,  or  happy  people,  would 
never  have  entered  into  this  life.  When  human  nature  could 
not  fully  and  harmoniously  display  itself,  when  man  could  not 
pursue  the  true  aim  of  his  destiny,  it  was  then  that  his  de- 
velopment became  eccentric,  and  that,  rather  than  accept 
ruin,  he  ca6t  himself,  at  all  risks,  into  the  strangest  situations. 
In  order  to  live  and  act  in  a  regular  and  reasonable  manner, 
mankind  requires  that  the  facts,  in  the  midst  of  which  it  lives 
and  acts,  should  be,  to  a  certain  degree,  reasonable,  regular ; 
that  its  faculties  should  find  employment,  that  its  condition 
should  not  be  too  austere,  that  the  spectacle  of  general  cor- 
ruption and  abasement  should  not  rebel  against,  should  not 
desolate  strong  souls,  in  which  morality  cannot  be  deadened. 
The  weariness,  the  disgust  at  an  enervated  perversity,  and 
the  desire  to  fly  from  the  public  miseries,  is  what  made  the 
monks  of  the  east  far  more  than  the  particular  character  of 
Christianity  or  an  access  of  religious  exaltation.  These  same 
circumstances  existed  in  the  west ;  Italian,  Gaulish,  African 
society,  amidst  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  and  the  devastations  of 
the  barbarians,  was  as  unhappy,  as  depraved,  as  idle,  as  that 
of  Asia  Minor  or  Egypt.  The  true  causes  of  the  continual 
extension  of  the  monastic  life  were,  therefore,  the  same  in 
both  countries,  an.1  must  have  produced  in  them  the  *ame 
effects. 

Despite  the  diveisitics  which  I  have  remarked,  the  simili- 


288  HISTORY    OF 

tude  was  also  very  great,  and  the  compels  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous bishops  did  not  prevent  the  extravagances  of  the  monks 
of  the  east  from  finding  imitators  in  the  west.  Neither  her- 
mits, recluses,  nor  any  of  the  pious  follies  of  the  ascetic  life 
were  wanting  in  Gaul.  Saint  Senoch,  a  barbarian  by  birth, 
retired  into  the  environs  of  Tours,  inclosed  himself  within 
four  walls,  so  close  together,  that  he  could  make  no  movemenl 
with  the  lower  part  of  his  person,  and  lived  many  years  in 
this  situation,  an  object  of  veneration  to  the  surrounding  popu- 
lation. 

The  recluses,  Caluppa  in  Auvergne,  Patroclus  in  the  terri- 
tory of  Langres,  Hospitius  in  Provence,  were  not  quite  so  ad- 
mirable ;  still  their  celebrity  was  great,  as  were  their  austeri- 
ties.1 Even  the  stylites  had  competitors  in  the  west ;  and  the 
account  which  Gregory  of  Tours  has  left  us  concerning  them, 
paints  the  manners  of  the  times  with  so  much  truth  and  inte- 
rest, that  I  must  read  it  to  you  entire.  Gregory  gives  an  ac- 
count of  his  own  conversation  with  the  monk  Wulfilaich,  doubt- 
less a  barbarian,  as  his  name  indicates,  and  who  was  the  first 
in  the  west  to  attempt  setting  up  as  a  rival  for  Saint  Simeon 
of  Antioch. 

"  I  went  into  the  territory  of  Treves,"  says  Wulfilaich  to 
Gregory ;  "  *  I  there  constructed,  with  my  own  hands,  upon 
this  mountain,  the  little  dwelling  which  you  see.  I  found 
there  an  image  of  Diana,  which  the  people  of  the  place,  still 
infidels,  adored  as  a  divinity.  I  raised  a  column  upon  which 
I  remained  with  great  suffering,  and  without  any  kind  of 
shoes  or  stockings ;  and  when  the  winter  season  arrived,  I 
was  so  affected  with  the  rigors  of  the  frost,  that  very  often  the 
nails  have  fallen  from  my  feet,  and  frozen  water  has  hung 
from  my  beard  in  the  form  of  candles  ;  for  this  country  has 
the  reputation  of  often  having  very  severe  winters.'  We  ear- 
nestly asked  him  to  say  what  was  his  nourishment  and  drink, 
and  how  he  had  overthrown  the  idol  of  the  mountain  ;  he 
said — '  My  food  was  a  little  bread  and  herbs,  and  a  small 
quantity  of  water.  But  a  large  number  of  people  from  the 
neighboring  villages  began  to  flock  towards  me ;  I  continually 
preached  to  them  that  Diana  did  not  exist ;  that  the  idol  and 
the  other  objects  to  which  they  thought  it  their  duty  to  ad- 
dress worship,  were  absolutely  nothing.     I  also  repeated  to 

1  See  Gregory  of  Tours,  vol.  i.,  p.  231,  312,  in  my  Collection  da 
Mfanoires  relatifs  a  V  Histoire  de  France. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  289 

them  that  those  canticles  which  they  usually  sang  while 
drinking,  and  amidst  their  debaucheries,  were  unworthy  of 
the  Divinity,  and  that  it  would  be  far  better  if  they  offered 
the  sacrifices  of  their  praises  to  the  all-powerful  God  who  made 
heaven  and  earth ;  I  also  often  prayed  the  Lord  to  deign  to 
overthrow  the  idol,  and  draw  these  people  from  their  errors. 
The  mercy  of  the  Lord  worked  upon  those  gross  minds,  and 
disposed  them,  lending  an  ear  to  my  words,  to  quit  their  idols, 
and  follow  the  Lord.  I  assembled  some  of  them,  in  order  that 
I  might,  with  their  help,  thrown  down  the  immense  image 
which  I  could  not  destroy  by  my  own  strength.  I  had  alrea- 
dy broken  the  other  idols,  which  was  more  easy.  Many  as- 
sembled around  the  statue  of  Diana;  they  threw  cords  around 
it,  and  began  to  pull ;  but  all  their  efforts  could  not  break  it. 
I  then  went  to  the  cathedral,  threw  myself  upon  the  ground, 
and  with  tears  implored  the  Divine  mercy  to  destroy  by  the 
powers  of  Heaven,  what  earthly  efforts  did  not  suffice  to  throw 
down.  After  my  prayer  I  left  the  cathedral,  and  immediately 
returned  to  the  laborers ;  I  toolc  the  cord,  and  we  immediately 
recommenced  pulling.  At  the  first  effort  the  idol  fell  to  the 
ground ;  it  was  afterwards  broken,  and  reduced  to  powder  by 
iron  mallets I  felt  disposed  to  return  to  my  ordi- 
nary way  of  life ;  but  the  bishops,  who  wished  to  strengthen 
me,  in  order  that  I  might  continue  more  perfectly  the  work 
which  I  had  commenced,  came  to  me  and  said : — '  The  way 
that  you  have  chosen  is  not  the  right  way ;  you  are  unwor- 
thy, and  cannot  be  compared  with  Saint  Simeon  of  Antioch, 
who  lived  upon  his  column.  Besides,  the  situation  of  the 
place  does  not  permit  of  a  like  amount  of  suffering  ;  descend 
rather,  and  live  with  the  brothers  that  you  have  assembled.' 
At  these  words,  that  I  might  not  be  accused  of  disobedience 
towards  the  bishop,  I  descended,  and  I  went  with  them,  and 
also  took  some  repast  with  them.  One  day,  the  bishop  having 
despatched  me  to  some  distance  from  the  village,  sent  laborers 
with  hatchets,  chisels,  and  hammers,  and  threw  down  the 
column  on  which  I  used  to  live.  When  I  returned  the  next 
day,  I  found  all  destroyed  ;  1  wept  bitterly  ;  but  I  did  not 
wish  to  re-establish  what  was  destroyed,  for  fear  of  being  ac- 
cused of  going  against  the  orders  of  the  bishops ;  and  from 
that  time  I  have  remained  here,  and  contented  myself  with 
living  with  my  brothers.'  "' 

1  Greg,  of  Tours,  vol.  i.,  p.  440 — 444. 


290  HISTORY    OF 

All  is  equally  remarkable  in  this  account,  bolh  the  oner 
getic  devotion  and  the  inward  enthusiasm  of  the  hermit,  and 
the  good  sense,  perhaps  with  a  touch  of  jealousy,  of  the 
bishops  ',  we  meet  in  it  at  once  the  influence  of  the  east,  and 
the  peculiar  character  of  the  west.  And  as  the  bishop  of 
Treves  repressed  the  insanity  of  the  stylites,  so  Saint  Au- 
gustin  assailed  hypocrisy  wandering  under  the  monkish 
cloak. 

"  The  subtle  enemy  of  mankind,"  says  he,  "  has  every- 
where dispersed  hypocrites  under  the  features  of  monks  ;  they 
overrun  the  provinces,  where  no  one  has  sent  them,  wander- 
ing in  every  direction,  not  establishing  themselves,  staying 
nowhere.  Some  go  about  selling  relics  of  martyrs ;  that  is  to 
say,  if  they  be  relics  of  martyrs ;  others  show  their  robes  and 
their  phylacteries  I"1 

I  might  cite  many  other  examples  in  which  this  two-fold 
fact,  the  resemblance  and  the  difference  of  the  east  and  the 
west,  is  likewise  marked.  Amidst  these  eccentricities,  through 
these  alternations  of  folly  and  wisdom,  the  progress  of  the  mo- 
nastic institution  continued ;  the  number  of  monks  went  on 
increasing ;  they  wandered  or  became  fixed,  they  excited  the 
nation  by  their  preachings,  or  edified  it  by  the  spectacle  of 
their  life.  From  day  to  day  they  received  greater  admira- 
tion and  respect ;  the  idea  became  established  that  this  was 
the  perfection  of  Christian  conduct.  They  were  proposed  as 
models  for  the  clergy  ;  already  some  of  them  had  been  or- 
dained, in  order  to  make  them  priests  or  even  bishops ;  and 
yet  they  were  still  laity,  preserving  a  great  degree  of  liberty, 
contracting  no  kind  of  religious  engagement,  always  distinct 
from  the  clergy,  often  even  purposely  separating  from  it. 

"  It  is  the  ancient  advice  of  the  fathers,"  says  Cassien, 
"  advice  which  endures,  that  a  monk,  at  any  cost,  must  fly 
bishops  and  women,  for  neither  women  nor  bishops  allow  a 
monk  who  has  once  become  familiar  with  them,  to  rest  in 
peace  in  his  cell,  nor  to  fix  his  eyes  on  pure  and  celestial  doc- 
trine, contemplating  holy  things."2 

So  much  liberty  and  power,  so  strong  an  influence  over  the 
people  and  such  an  absence  of  general  forms,  of  regular  or- 
ganization, could  not  fail  to  give  rise  to  great  disorder.     The 


1  Saint  Augustin,  de  Opera  Monac,  c.  28. 
•  Cassien,  de  Instit.  ccenob.,  xi.  17-, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  29J 

necessity  of  putting  an  end  to  it,  of  assembling  these  missiona. 
ries,  these  solitaries,  these  recluses,  these  cenobites,  who 
every  day  became  more  numerous,  and  were  neither  of  the 
Deople  nor  the  clergy,  under  a  common  government,  under 
one  discipline,  was  strongly  felt. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  in  480,  there  was  born 
in  Italy,  at  Nursia,  in  the  duchy  of  Spoleto,  of  a  wealthy  and 
considerable  family,  the  man  destined  to  resolve  this  problem, 
to  give  to  the  monks  of  the  west  the  general  rule  for  which 
they  waited  ;  I  speak  of  Saint  Benedict.  At  the  age  of  twelve 
years  he  was  sent  to  Rome  to  prosecute  his  studies.  This 
was  the  time  of  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  and  the  great  troubles 
of  Italy  ;  the  Heruli  and  the  Ostrogoths  disputed  for  its  pos- 
session ;  Theodoric  drove  out  Odoacer ;  Rome  was  incessantly 
taken,  re-taken,  threatened.  In  494,  Benedict,  scarcely 
twelve  years  of  age,  left  it  with  Cyrilla,  his  nurse  ;  and  a 
short  time  afterwards,  we  find  him  a  hermit  in  the  depths  of 
a  cavern,  at  Subiaco,  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma. 

As  to  why  this  child  retired  there,  how  he  lived,  nothing  is 
known  ;  for  his  legend,  our  only  account,  places  at  every  step 
a  moral  wonder,  or  a  miracle,  properly  so  called.  However 
this  may  have  been,  at  the  end  of  a  certain  period,  the  life  of 
Benedict,  his  youth  and  his  austerities,  attracted  the  shepherds 
of  the  neighborhood  ;  he  preached  to  them  ;  and  the  power 
of  his  word  and  the  authority  of  his  example,  the  always 
numerous  concourse  of  auditors,  soon  rendered  him  celebrated. 
In  510,  the  neighboring  monks  of  Vicovaro  wished  to 
have  him  for  their  chief;  he  at  first  refused,  telling  the 
monks  that  their  conduct  was  disorderly,  that  they  abandoned 
themselves  in  their  house  to  all  kinds  of  excesses,  that  they 
should  undertake  reformation  and  submit  themselves  to  a  very 
severe  rule.  They  persisted,  and  Benedict  became  abbot  of 
Vicovaro. 

He,  in  effect,  undertook  with  invincible  energy  the  refor- 
mation which  he  had  spoken  of ;  as  he  had  foreseen,  the  monks 
were  soon  tired  of  a  reformer.  The  struggle  between  them 
and  him  became  so  violent  thai  they  attempted  to  poison  him 
in  the  chalice.  He  perceived  it  by  a  miracle,  says  the  legend  ; 
quitted  the  monastery,  and  retook  to  his  hermit  life  at 
Subiaco. 

His  renown  spread  far  ;  not  only  the  shepherds,  but  laymen 
of  every  condition,  and  wandering  monks,  assembled  to  live 
near  him.     Equitius  and  Tertullus,  noble  Romans,  sent  thei* 


292  histor/  of 

sons,  Maurus  and  Placidus  to  him ;  Maurus  at  the  age  of 
twelve,  Placidus  quite  an  infant.  He  founded  monasteries 
around  his  cavern.  In  520,  it  appears  that  he  had  founded 
twelve,  each  composed  of  twelve  monks,  in  which  he  began  to 
try  the  ideas  and  institutions  by  which,  in  his  opinion,  the 
monastic  life  should  be  regulated., 

,But  the  same  spirit  of  insubordination  and  jealousy  which 
had  driven  him  from  the  monastery  of  Vicovaro  was  soon 
manifested  in  those  which  he  had  himself  just  founded.  A 
monk  named  Florentius  raised  up  enemies  against  him,  laid 
snares  for  him.  Benedict  was  irritated,  and  a  second  time 
renounced  the  struggle,  and,  taking  some  of  his  disciples, 
among  others,  Maurus  and  Placidus,  he  retired,  in  528,  to 
the  frontiers  of  the  Abruzzi  and  the  Terra  di  Lavoro,  near 
Cassino. 

He  there  found  what  the  hermit  Wulfilaiich,  whose  history  I 
have  just  mentioned,  found  near  Treves,  paganism  still  in  ex- 
istence, and  the  temple  and  statue  of  Apollo  standing  on 
Mount  Cassino,  a  hill  which  overlooks  the  town.  Benedict 
overthrew  the  temple  and  the  statue,  extirpated  paganism,, 
collected  numerous  disciples,  and  founded  a  new  monastery. 

It  was  here,  where  he  remained  and  ruled  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  that  he  entirely  applied  himself  to,  and  published,  his 
Rules  of  Monastic  Life.  It  soon  became,  as  every  one  knows, 
the  general,  and  almost  only  law  of  the  monks  of  the  west. 
It  was  by  this  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  that  the  western  monas- 
tical  institution  was  reformed,  and  received  its  definitive  form. 
Let  us  stop  here,  then,  ana  examine  with  some  care  this  small 
code  of  a  society  which  has  played  so  important  a  part  in  the 
history  of  Europe. 

The  author  commences  by  explaining  the  state  of  the 
western  monks  at  this  epoch  ;  that  is  to  say,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  sixth  century  : 

"  It  is  well  known,"  says  he,  "  that  there  are  four  kinds 
of  monks ;  firstly,  the  cenobites,  those  who  live  in  a  monas- 
tery, under  a  ruler  or  abbot.  The  second  kind  is  that  of  the 
anchorites,  that  is  to  say,  hermits ;  those  who,  not  from  the 
fervor  of  a  novice,  but  by  long  proof  of  the  monastic  life 
have  already  learned,  to  the  great  profit  of  many  people,  to 
combat  against  the  devil,  and  who,  well  prepared,  go  out 
aione  from  the  army  of  their  brothers  to  engage  in  a  single 

combat The  third  kind  of  monks  is  that  of  the 

tardbaites,  who,  not  being  tried  by  any  rule,  nor  by  any 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  293 

..essons  of  experience,  as  gold  is  tried  in  the  furnace,  and 
similar  rather  to  the  soft  nature  of  lead,  by  their  works  keep 
fealty  to  the  age,  and  lie  to  God  by  their  tonsure.  We  meet 
these  to  the  number  of  two,  three,  or  more,  without  pastor,  not 
caring  about  the  sheep  of  the  Lord,*  but  merely  their  own 
particular  flock ;  their  law  is  their  desire ;  what  they  think 
or  prefer,  that  they  call  holy  ;  what  does  not  please  them  they 
Bay  is  not  permitted.  The  fourth  kind  is  that  of  the  monks 
who  are  called  gyrovagi,  who,  during  their  whole  life,  inhabit 
various  cells  for  three  or  four  days,  in  various  provinces, 
always  wandering — never  settled,  obeying  the  bent  of  their 
luxuries  and  the  debaucheries  of  gormandizing,  and  in  every 
respect  worse  than  the  saraba'ites.  It  is  much  better  to  hold 
our  peace  than  to  speak  of  their  miserable  way  of  life :  pass- 
ing them  in  silence,  let  us,  with  God's  aid,  regulate  the  strong 
association  of  the  cenobites." 

The  facts  thus  established,  the  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  is 
divided  into  seventy-three  chapters,  namely  : 

Nine  chapters  concerning  the  moral  and  general  duties  of 
the  brothers ; 

Thirteen  concerning  religious  duties  and  offices  ; 

Twenty-nine  concerning  discipline,  faults,  penalties,  &c. ; 

Ten  concerning  the  internal  government  and  administra- 
tion; 

Twelve  concerning  various  subjects,  as  guests,  brothers 
travelling,  &c. ; 

That  is, — 1.  nine  chapters  on  the  moral  code;  2.  thirteen 
on  the  religious ;  3.  twenty-nine  of  the  penal  code  or  disci- 
pline ;  4.  ten  of  the  political  code ;  5.  twelve  upon  various 
subjects. 

Let  us  take  each  of  these  small  codes,  and  see  what  prin- 
ciples  dominate  in  them,  what  was  the  meaning  and  compass 
of  the  reformation  which  their  author  brought  about. 

1.  With  regard  to  the  moral  and  general  duties  of  monks, 
the  .points  upon  which  the  whole  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  rests 
are,  self-denial,  obedience,  and  labor.  Some  of  the  monks  of 
the  west  had  often  endeavored  to  introduce  labor  into  their 
life ;  but  the  attempt  had  never  become  general,  was  never 
followed  up.  This  was  the  great  revolution  which  Saint 
Benedict  made  in  the  monastic  institution  ;  he  especially  in- 
troduced manual  and  agricultural  labor  into  it.  The  Bene- 
dictine monks  were  the  agriculturists  of  Europe ;  thej 
cleared   it   on   a   large  scale,  associating   agriculture   with 


294  HISTORY    OF 

preaching.  A  colony,  a  swarm  of  monks,  not  very  nume. 
rous  at  first,  transported  themselves  into  uncultivated  places, 
or  almost  so,  often  into  the  midst  of  a  still  pagan  population, 
into  Germany,  for  example,  or  Brittany  ;  and  there,  at  once 
missionaries  and  laborers,  they  accomplished  their  two-fold 
task,  often  attended  with  as  much  danger  as  fatigue.  This  is 
how  Saint  Benedict  regulated  the  employment  of  the  day  in 
his  monasteries ;  you  will  see  that  labor  there  occupied  a 
great  place  : 

'  Laziness  is  the  enemy  of  the  soul,  and  consequently  the 
brothers  should,  at  certain  times,  occupy  themselves  in  manual 
labor  ;  at  others,  in  holy  reading.  We  think  that  this  should 
be  thus  regulated.  From  Easter  to  the  month  of  October, 
after  the  first  prime,  they  should  work,  nearly  to  the  fourth 
hour,  at  whatever  may  be  necessary  :  from  the  fourth  hour, 
nearly  to  the  sixth,  they  shall  apply  themselves  to  reading. 
After  the  sixth  hour,  on  leaving  the  table,  they  shall  repose 
quietly  in  their  beds  :  or  if  any  one  wishes  to  read,  let  him 
read,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  disturb  others  :  and  let 
nones  be  said  at  the  middle  of  the  eighth  hour.  Let  them 
work  till  vespers  at  whatever  there  may  be  to  do ;  and  if  the 
poverty  of  the  place,  necessity,  or  the  harvest  keep  them  con- 
stantly employed,  let  them  not  mind  that,  for  they  are  truly 
monks  if  they  live  by  manual  labor,  as  our  brothers  the 
apostles  did  ;  but  let  everything  be  done  with  moderation,  for 
Lie  sake  of  the  weak. 

"From  the  month  of  October,  until  the  beginning  of  Lent, 
^i,  them  be  occupied  in  reading  until  the  second  hour ;  at 
Jie  second  let  them  sing  tierce,  and  until  nones  let  all  work 
at  what  is  enjoined  them ;  at  the  first  stroke  of  nones  let 
them  quit  work,  and  be  ready  the  moment  the  second  stroke 
shall  sound.  After  repast,  let  them  read  or  recite  the 
psalms. 

"  During  Lent,  let  them  read  from  the  morning  until  the 
third  hour,  and  let  them  then  work  as  they  shall  be  ordered, 
until  the  tenth  hour.  During  Lent,  all  shall  receive  books 
from  the  library,  which  they  shall  read  one  after  another  all 
through.  These  books  shall  be  given  at  the  commencement 
of  Lent.  Especially  let  one  or  two  ancients  be  chosen  to  go 
through  the  monastery  at  the  hours  when  the  brothers  are 
occupied  in  reading,  and  let  them  see  if  they  find  any  negli- 
gent brother  who  abandons  himself  to  repose,  or  to  conversa- 
tion, who  in  no  way  applies  himself  to  reading,  who  is  not 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  295 

only  useless  to  himself,  but  who  distracts  the  others.  If  one  of 
the  kind  is  found,  let  him  be  reprimanded  once  or  twice  ;  if  ho 
do  not  amend,  let  him  be  subjected  to  the  regulated  correction, 
in  order  to  intimidate  the  others.  On  Sunday  let  all  be  occu- 
pied in  reading,  except  those  who  are  selected  for  various 
functions.  If  any  one  be  negligent  or  lazy,  so  that  he  neither 
wishes  nor  is  able  to  meditate  or  read,  let  some  labor  be  en- 
joined upon  him,  so  that  he  may  not  remain  doing  nothing. 
As  regards  infirm  or  delicate  brothers,  let  some  work  or  em- 
ployment be  imposed,  so  that  they  may  neither  be  lazy  nor 

loaded  with  the  severity  of  the  work Their  weakness 

should  be  taken  into  consideration  by  the  abbot.'"'1 

Together  with  labor,  Saint  Benedict  prescribes  passive 
obedience  of  the  monks  to  their  superiors :  a  rule  less  new, 
and  which  prevailed  also  among  the  monks  of  the  east,  but 
which  he  laid  down  in  a  much  more  express  manner,  and 
more  vigorously  developing  its  consequences.  It  is  impossi- 
ble, in  studying  the  history  of  European  civilization,  not  to  be 
astonished  at  the  part  which' is  there  played  by  this  idea,  and 
not  curiously  to  seek  its  origin.  Of  a  surety,  Europe  re- 
ceived it  neither  from  Greece,  ancient  Rome,  the  Germans, 
nor  from  Christianity,  properly  so  called.  It  began  to  appear 
under  the  Roman  empire,  and  arose  out  of  the  worship  of  the 
imperial  majesty.  But  it  was  in  the  monastic  institution  that 
it  was  truly  aggrandized  and  developed  ;  it  is  from  thence 
that  it  set  out  to  spread  itself  into  modern  civilization.  That 
is  the  fatal  present  that  the  monks  made  to  Europe,  and 
which  so  long  altered  or  enervated  its  virtues.  This  princi- 
ple is  incessantly  repeated  in  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict.  Many 
chapters,  entitled,  De  obedientia,  de  humilitate,  fyc,  announce 
and  comment  upon  it  in  detail.  Here  are  two  which  will 
show  to  what  a  point  the  rigor  of  application  was  pressed. 
Chapter  sixty-eight,  entitled,  If  a  brother  is  ordered  to  any- 
thing impossible,  is  thus  expressed  : 

"  If  by  chance  anything  difficult  or  impossible  be  imposed 
upon  a  brother,  let  him  receive  with  all  mildness  and  obedi- 
ence the  command  which  is  imposed  upon  him.  If  he  sees 
that  the  thing  entirely  surpasses  the  extent  of  his  power,  let 
him  explain  fitly  and  patiently  to  his  superior  the  reason  of 
the  impossibility,  not  inflamed  with  pride,  not  resisting,  not 


Reg.  S.  Bened.,  c   48. 


296  HISTORY    (  F 

contradicting.  If,  after  his  observation,  the  prior  persists 
in  his  opinion  and  his  command,  let  the  disciple  know  that 
it  ought  to  be  so,  and,  confiding  in  the  aid  of  God,  let  him 
obey.7' 

Chapter  sixty-nine  is  entitled,  That  in  a  monastery  no  one 
must  defend  another,  and  goes  on  to  say : — 

"  It  is  necessary  to  be  very  careful  that,  upon  no  pretext, 
a  monk  dare  in  the  monastery  defend  another,  or,  so  to  speak, 
protect  him,  even  when  he  shall  be  related  by  the  ties  of 
blood  ;  let  this  in  no  manner  be  dared  by  the  monks,  be- 
cause it  might  lead  to  grave  and  scandalous  occurrences. 
If  any  one  transgress  in  this,  let  him  be  severely  repri- 
manded." 

Self-denial  is  the  natural  consequence  of  passive  obedience. 
Whoever  is  bound  to  obey  absolutely,  and  on  every  occasion, 
exists  not;  all  personality  is  torn  from  him.  The  rule  of 
Saint  Benedict  formally  establishes  the  interdiction  of  all 
property  a  i  well  as  all  personal  will. 

"  It  is  especially  necessary  to  extirpate  from  the  monastery, 
and  unto  the  very  root,  the  vice  of  any  one  possessing  any- 
thing in  particular.  Let  no  person  dare  to  give  or  receive 
without  the  order  of  the  abbot,  nor  have  anything  of  his  own 
peculiar  property,  not  a  book,  nor  tablets,  nor  a  pen,  nor  any. 
thing  whatsoever ;  for  it  is  not  permitted  them  even  to  have 
their  body  and  their  will  under  their  own  power."1 

Can  individuality  be  more  completely  abolished  ? 

2.  I  shall  not  detain  you  with  the  thirteen  chapters  which 
regulate  worship  and  the  religious  offices  ;  they  do  not  give 
rise  to  any  important  observation. 

3.  Those  which  treat  of  discipline  and  penalties,  on  the 
contrary,  require  our  best  attention.  It  is  here  that  perhaps 
the  most  considerable  of  the  changes  brought  about  by  Saint 
Benedict  into  the  monastic  institution  appears,  the  introduc- 
tion of  solemn  and  perpetual  vows.  Hitherto,  although  the 
entering  into  the  monastery  gave  reason  to  presume  the  in- 
tention of  rerr  jning  there,  although  the  monk  contracted  a 
kind  of  iv  ,af  obligation  which  daily  tended  to  take  great 
fixity,  stiii  no  vow,  no  formal  engagement,  was  yet  pronounced. 
It  wus  Saint  Benedict  who  introduced  them,  and  made  them 
the  basis  of  the  monastic  life,  of  which  the  primitive  charac- 


1  Reg.  S.  Bened.,  c.  33. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  297 

ler  thus  entirely  disappeared.  This  character  was  exaltation 
and  liberty ;  perpetual  vows,  which  could  not  long  delay 
being  placed  under  the  care  of  the  public  power,  substituted 
a  law,  an  institution. 

"  Let  him  who  is  to  be  received,"  say3  the  rule  of  Saint 
Benedict,  "  promise  in  the  oratory,  before  God  and  his  Saints, 
the  perpetuity  of  his  stay,  the  reformation  of  his  manners  and 
obedience.  Let  a  deed  be  made  of  this  promise,  in  the  name 
of  the  saints  whose  relics  are  deposited  there,  and  in  presence 
of  the  abbot.  Let  him  write  this  deed  with  his  own  hand, 
or,  if  he  cannot  write,  let  another,  at  his  request,  write  it  for 
him,  and  let  the  novice  put  a  cross  to  it,  and  with  his  own 
hand  deposit  the  deed  upon  the  altar."1 

The  word  novice  reveals  another  innovation  to  us ;  a  novi- 
ciate was,  in  fact,"  the  natural  consequence  of  the  perpetuity 
of  vows,  and  Saint  Benedict,  who,  to  an  exalted  imagination 
and  an  ardent  character,  joined  much  good  sense,  and  practical 
sagacity,  failed  not  to  prescribe  it.  Its  duration  was  more 
than  a  year.  They  read  by  degrees  the  whole  rule  to  the 
novice,  saying  to  him  :  "  Here  is  the  law  under  which  you 
wish  to  strive ;  if  you  can  observe  it,  enter ;  if  you  cannot, 
go  freely."  Upon  the  whole,  the  conditions  and  forms  of 
trial  are  evidently  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  sincerity,  and  with 
the  intention  of  being  well  assured  that  the  will  of  the  can- 
didate was  real  and  strong. 

4.  As  regards  the  political  code,  the  government  itself  of 
the  monasteries,  the  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  offers  a  singular 
mixture  of  despotism  and  liberty.  Passive  obedience,  as  you 
have  just  seen,  fe  its  fundamental  principle  ;  at  the  same  time 
the  government  is  elective  ;  the  abbot  is  always  chosen  by 
the  brothers.  When  once  this  choice  is  made,  they  lose  all 
liberty,  they  fall  under  the  absolute  dominion  of  their  su- 
perior, but  of  the  superior  whom  they  have  elected,  and  of 
no  other. 

Moreover,  in  imposing  obedience  on  the  monks,  the  rule 
orders  that  the  abbot  consult  them.  Chapter  III.,  entitled 
Tliat  the  advice  of  the  brothers  must  be  taken,  expressly  says: 

"  Whenever  anything  of  importance  is  to  take  place  in  the 
monastery,  let  the  abbot  convoke  the  whole  congregation, 
•nd  say  what  the  question  is,  and  after  having  heard  the 


•  Reg.  S.  Bened.,  c.  5S 


298  HISTORY    OF 

advice  of  the  brothers,  he  shall  think  of  it  apart,  and  shall  do 
as  appears  to  him  most  suitable.  We  say  call  all  the  brothers 
to  the  council,  because  God  often  reveals  by  the  youngest 
what  is  most  valuable.  Let  the  brothers  give  their  advice 
in  all  submission,  and  let  them  not  venture  to  defend  it  ob- 
stinately ;  let  the  affair  depend  upon  the  will  of  the  abbot, 
and  let  all  obey  what  he  thinks  beneficial.  But  as  it  is  suit- 
able that  the  disciple  should  obey  the  master,  so  it  is  desira- 
ble that  the  latter  should  regulate  all  things  with  prudence 
and  justice.  Let  the  rule  be  followed  in  everything,  and  let 
no  one  dare  to  break  it. 

"  If  trifling  things  are  to  be  done  in  the  interior  of  the 
monastery,  let  them  take  the  advice  of  the  ancients  alone." 

Thus  in  this  singular  government,  election,  deliberation, 
and  absolute  power  were  coexistent. 

5.  The  chapters  which  treat  of  various  subjects  have 
nothing  remarkable,  except  a  character  of  good  sense  and 
mildness,  which  is  also  seen  in  many  other  parts  of  the  rule, 
and  with  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck.  The  moral 
thought  and  general  discipline  of  it  are  severe  ;  but,  in  the 
details  of  life,  it  is  humane  and  moderate ;  more  humane, 
more  moderate  than  the  Roman  law,  than  the  barbaric  laws, 
than  the  general  manners  of  the  times.  I  do  not  doubt  but 
that  the  brothers,  confined  within  a  monastery,  were  governed 
by  an  authority  upon  the  whole  more  reasonable,  and  in  a 
manner  less  severe,  than  they  would  have  been  in  civil 
society. 

Saint  Benedict  was  so  impressed  with  the  necessity  for  a 
mild  and  moderate  rule,  that  the  preface  which  he  has  annexed 
to  it  finishes  with  these  words  : 

"  We  wish  thus  to  institute  a  school  for  the  service  of  the 
Lord,  and  we  hope  we  have  not  put  into  this  institution  any- 
thing harsh  or  painful ;  but  if,  after  the  council  of  equity, 
anything  for  the  correction  of  vice,  or  maintenance  of  charity, 
is  found  in  it  which  is  rather  toe  harsh,  do  not,  alarmed  at 
that,  flee  the  path  of  salvation ;  at  its  commencement  it  is 
always  narrow ;  but  by  the  progress  of  a  regular  life,  and 
faith,  the  heart  dilates,  and  runs  with  an  ineffable  sweetness 
into  the  way  of  God's  commandments." 

It  was  in  528  that  Saint  Benedict  gave  forth  his  rule  :  in 
543,  the  time  of  his  death,  it  had  already  spread  into  all  parts 
©f  Europe.  Saint  Placidus  carried  it  into  Sicily,  others  into 
Spain.     Saint  Maurus,  the  cherished  disciple  of  Saint  Bene- 


CIVILIZATION    IK    FRANCE.  299 

diet,  introduced  it  into  France.  At  the  request  of  Innocent, 
bishop  of  Mans,  he  set  out  from  Mount  Cassino  at  the  end  of 
the  year  542,  while  Saint  Benedict  still  lived.  When  he 
arrived  at  Orleans,  in  543,  Saint  Benedict  no  longer  lived, 
but  the  institution  did  not  the  less  pursue  its  course.  The 
first  monastery  founded  by  Saint  Maur  was  that  of  Glanfeuil, 
in  Anjou,  or  Saint  Maur-sur-Loire.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth 
century,  the  greater  part  of  the  French  monasteries  had 
adopted  the  same  rule ;  it  had  become  the  general  system  of 
the  monastic  order,  so  that  towards  the  end  of  the  eighth 
century,  Charlemagne  caused  it  to  be  asked  in  the  various 
parts  of  his  empire,  if  there  existed  any  other  kind  of  monks 
than  those  of  the  order  of  Saint  Benedict  ? 

We  have  as  yet  not  studied  more  than  half,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  revolutions  of  the  monastic  institutions  at  this  epoch,  their 
internal  revolutions,  the  changes  in  the  regime  and  legislation 
of  monasteries,  their  relations  on  the  one  hand  with  the  state, 
on  the  other  with  the  clergy,  their  situation  in  civil  society, 
and  in  ecclesiastical  society.  This  will  form  the  subject  of 
our  next  lecture. 


300  HISTORY    OF 


FIFTEENTH  LECTURE. 

The  relations  of  the  monks  with  the  clergy,  from  the  fourth  to  the 
eighth  century — Their  primitive  independence — Causes  of  its  de- 
cline— 1.  In  proportion  as  the  number  and  the  power  of  the  monks 
were  augmented,  the  bishops  extended  their  jurisdiction  over  them 
— Canons  of  the  councils — 2.  The  monks  demand  and  obtain  privi- 
leges— 3.  They  aspire  to  enter  into  the  clergy — Differences  and  con 
tests  among  the  monks  themselves  upon  this  subject — The  bishops- 
at  first  repulse  their  pretensions — They  give  way  to  them — In  en- 
tering into  the  clergy  the  monks  lose  their  independence — Tyranny 
of  the  bishops  over  the  monasteries — Resistance  of  the '  monks- 
Charters  granted  by  the  bishops  to  some  monasteries — The  monk; 
have  recourse  to  the  * protection  of  the  kings,  to  that  of  the  popes- 
Character  and  lini'"  ^  of  the  intervention — Similarity  between  the 
struggle  of  the  m'  uasteries  against  the  bishops  and  that  of  the  com- 
mons against  the  feudal  lords. 

We  have  studied  the  internal  system  of  monasteries  from 
the  fourth  to  the  eighth  century  ;  at  present  let  us  occupy  our- 
selves with  their  external  condition  in  the  church  in  general, 
with  their  relations  with  the  clergy. 

As  people  have  been  deceived  as  to  the  internal  state  and 
system  of  monasteries,  by  forgetting  the  primitive  character 
of  monks,  who  were  at  first  laymen  and  not  ecclesiastics,  so 
have  they  been  greatly  deceived  concerning  their  situation  in 
the  church,  by  forgetting  their  equally  primitive  character, 
which  was  liberty,  independence.  < 

The  foundation  of  a  great  number  of  monasteries  belonged 
to  an  epoch,  when  the  monks  were  already,  and  for  a  long 
time  had  been,  incorporated  with  the  clergy ;  many  were 
founded  by  a  patron,  lay  or  ecclesiastical,  sometimes  a  bishop, 
sometimes  a  king,  or  a  great  nobleman ;  and  we  see  them, 
from  their  very  origin,  subject  to  an  authority  to  which  they 
owed  their  existence. 

It  is  supposed  that  it  had  always  been  thus,  that  all  the  mo- 
nasteries had  been  the  creation  of  some  will  foreign  and  supe- 
rior to  that  of  the  congregation  itself,  and  which,  more  or  less, 
had  retained  its  influence.  This  is  entirely  to  overlook  the 
Drimitive  situation  of  these  establishments,  and  the  true  mode 
of  their  formation. 

The  first  monasteries  were  not  founded  by  any  one, — they 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  301 

founded  themselves.  They  were  not,  as  at  a  later  period, 
(he  pious  work  of  some  rich  and  powerful  man  who  was  de- 
sirous of  building  an  edifice,  joining  a  church  to  it,  endowing 
it,  and  calling  other  men  to  it,  in  order  that  they  might  there 
lead  a  religious  life.  The  monastical  associations  formed 
themselves  spontaneously,  among  equals,  by  the  impulsive 
movement  of  soul,  and  without  any  other  aim  than  that  of 
satisfying  it.  The  monks  preceded  the  monastery,  its  edifices, 
its  church,  its  endowment ;  they  united,  each  of  his  own  will, 
and  on  his  own  account,  without  depending  upon  any  one  be- 
yond, as  free  as  they  were  disinterested. 

In  meeting,  they  naturally  found  themselves,  in  all  that  re- 
lated to  manners,  to  doctrines,  to  religious  practices,  placed 
under  the  inspection  of  the  bishops.  The  secular  clergy  ex- 
isted before  the  monasteries ;  it  was  organized ;  it  had  rights, 
a  recognized  authority ;  the  monks  were  subject  to  it,  like 
other  Christians.  The  moral  and  religious  life  of  the  faithful 
was  the  object  of  episcopal  inspection  and  censure ;  that  of 
the  monks  was  in  the  same  case :  the  bishop  was  not  invested 
with  any  jurisdiction  with  regard  to  them,  with  any  particu- 
lar authority ;  they  were  in  the  general  condition  of  the 
laity — living,  however,  in  great  independence,  electing  their 
superiors,  administering  the  property  which  they  possessed 
in  common,  without  any  obligation  to  any  one,  without  any 
burden  upon  any  one,  governing  themselves,  in  a  word,  as 
they  chose. 

Their  independence,  and  the  analogy  between  their  situa- 
tion and  the  rest  of  the  laity  was  such,  that  they  had  no  par- 
ticular church,  for  instance,  no  church  attached  to  their 
monastery,  no  priest  who  celebrated  Divine  service  for  them 
especially  ;  they  went  to  the  church  of  the  neighboring  city 
or  parish,  like  all  the  faithful,  united  to  the  mass  of  the  popu- 
lation. 

This  was  the  primitive  state  of  the  monasteries,  the  start- 
ing point  of  their  relations  with  the  clergy.  They  did  not 
long  remain  there :  many  causes  soon  concurred  to  change 
their  independence,  and  unite  them  more  intimately  with  the 
ecclesiastical  corporation.  Let  us  attempt  to  recognize  them, 
and  to  mark  the  various  degrees  of  their  transition. 

The  number  and  power  of  the  monks  continually  increased. 
When  I  say  power,  I  speak  of  their  influence,  their  moral 
action  on  the  public :  for  power,  properly  so  called,  legal, 
constituted  power,  the  monks  were  entirely  without :  but  their 

LIBRARY 

STAT*  TFft€!'EITS  C*t'  EGE 

SA    TA   1  ARB*  RA   Pine    aui. 


302  HISTORY   OF 

influence  was  daily  more  visible  and  more  strong.  For  this 
reason  alone,  they  attracted  a  more  assiduous  and  attentive 
inspection  on  the  part  of  the  bishops,  The  clergy  very  quick- 
ly understood  that  it  had  in  them,  either  formidable  rivals,  01 
useful  instruments.  They  applied  themselves,  therefore,  at 
an  early  period,  to  confine  them,  and  to  make  use  of  them 
The  ecclesiastical  history  of  the  fifth  century  attests  tbe 
continual  efforts  of  the  bishops  to  extend  and  to  confirm  their 
jurisdiction  over  the  monks.  The  general  inspection  which 
they  had  a  right  to  exercise  over  all  the  faithful,  furnisht  d 
them  with  a  thousand  occasions  and  means.  The  very  liber- 
ty enjoyed  by  the  monks  lent  them  aid,  for  it  gave  rise  to  many 
disorders ;  and  the  episcopal  authority  was,  of  all  others,  most 
naturally  called  upon  to  interfere  for  their  repression.  It  in- 
terposed, therefore,  and  the  acts  of  the  councils  of  the  fifth 
century  abound  in  canons,  whose  only  object  is  to  confirm  and 
establish  the  jurisdiction  of  the  bishops  over  monasteries. 
The  most  fundamental  is  a  canon  of  the  oecumenical  council 
held  at  Chalcedonia,  in  451,  and  which  enacts : 

"  Those  who  have  sincerely  and  really  embraced  the  soli- 
tary life  shall  be  suitably  honored ;  but  as  some,  under  the 
appearance  and  name  of  monks,  disturb  civil  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal affairs,  overrunning  towns,  and  attempting  even  to  insti- 
tute monasteries  for  themselves,  it  has  pleased  us  to  order  that 
no  one  build  or  found  a  monastery  without  the  consent  of  the 
bishop. 

"  Monks,  in  every  city  or  district,  shall  be  subject  to  the 
bishop,  remain  tranquil,  only  apply  themselves  to  fastings  and 
prayer,  and  remain  in  ths  place  where  they  have  renounced 
the  world.  Let  them  not  meddle  with  ecclesiastical  and  civil 
affairs,  and  interfere  in  nothing  out  of  doors,  and  not  quit 
their  monasteries,  unless,  for  some  necessary  work,  it  be  so 
ordered  by  the  bishop  of  the  city."1 

This  text  proves  that,  hitherto,  the  greater  part  of  the  mo- 
nasteries were  freely  founded  by  the  monks  themselves ;  but 
this  fact  was  already  considered  as  an  abuse,  and  the  authori- 
ty of  the  bishop  was  formally  required.  Its  necessity,  in 
fact,  became  a  law,  and  we  read  in  the  canons  of  the  council 
of  Agde,  held  in  506  : 

"  We  forbid  that  new  monasteries  be  founded  without  the 
consent  of  the  bishop."2 

In  511,  the  council  of  Orleans  orders  : 


1  Council  of  Chalcedonia,  in  451,  c.  4.  a  Ib.,c.  58 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  303 

"  Let  the  abbots,  according  to  the  humility  which  is  suita- 
ble to  the  religious  life,  be  subject  to  the  power  of  the  bishops ; 
and  if  they  do  anything  against  the  rule,  let  them  be  repri- 
manded by  the  bishops  ;  and  being  convoked,  they  shall  meet 
once  a  year  in  the  place  chosen  by  the  bishop."1 

Here  the  bishop  goes  further,  he  makes  himself  the  ruling 
minister  even  in  the  interior  of  monasteries ;  it  was  not  from 
him  that  they  held  it ;  he  was  not  the  monastical  legislative 
power ;  but  he  took  the  right  of  surveying  the  execution  of 
the  law  there. 

The  same  council  adds :  "  Let  no  monk,  abandoning, 
through  ambition  or  vanity,  the  congregation  of  the  monas- 
tery, dare  to  construct  a  separate  cell  without  the  permission 
of  the  bishop,  or  the  consent  of  the  abbot."8 

New  progress  of  the  episcopal  authority  :  hermits,  ancho- 
rites, recluses,  attracted  more  admiration  and  popular  favor 
than  the  cenobites;  the  most  zealous  monks  were  always 
disposed  to  quit  the  interior,  of  the  monasteries  in  order  to 
give  themselves  up  to  these  proud  austerities.  For  some 
time  no  authority  interfered  to  prevent  it,  not  even  that  of 
the  abbot ;  you  now  see  the  repressive  power  sanctioned,  not 
only  that  of  the  abbot,  but  of  the  bishop ;  he,  too,  charged 
both  with  keeping  the  monks  within  the  interior  of  the  house, 
and  with  repressing  the  external  effects  of  exaltation. 

In  352,  a  new  council  of  Orleans  decrees : 

"  Let  abbots  who  slight  the  orders  of  the  bishops,  not  be 
admitted,  unless  they  humbly  retract  this  rebellion."3 

And  a  year  afterwards  : 

"  Let  the  monastery  and  the  discipline  of  monks  be  under 
ihe  authority  of  the  bishop  of  the  district  in  which  they  are 
situated. 

"  Let  it  not  be  permitted  to  abbots  to  go  far  from  their  mo- 
nastery without  the  permission  of  the  bishop.  If  they  do  so, 
let  them  be  regularly  corrected  hy  their  bishop,  according  to 
the  ancient  canons. 

"  Let  the  bishops  take  under  their  caie  nunneries  established 
in  their  city ;  and  let  them  not  allow  any  abbess  to  do  aught 
against  the  rule  of  her  monastery."4 

When  all  these  rules  were  proclaimed,  although  they  did 


1  Coun.  of  Chalcedonia,  in  451,  c.  19.     *  Coun.  of  Orleans,  c.  93. 
*  lb.,  c.  22.  *  lb.,  in  551,  c.  1,  2,  3,  S 


304  HISTORY   OF 

not  contain  anything  very  precise,  although,  as  you  see,  th« 
jurisdiction  of  the  bishops  was  not  exaotly  determined,  still 
it  was  established  ;  it  interfered  in  the  principal  points  of  tha 
existence  of  the  monks,  in  the  foundation  of  monasteries,  in 
the  observation  of  their  discipline,  in  the  duties  of  the  abbots ; 
and,  recognized  in  principle,  although  often  repulsed  in  fact, 
it  strengthened  itself  by  exercise. 

The  monks  themselves  concurred  to  its  progression.  When 
they  had  acquired  more  importance,  they  claimed  a  separate 
existence.  They  complained  of  being  assimilated  with  the 
simple  laity,  and  confounded  with  the  mass  of  the  faithful ; 
they  desired  to  be  established  as  a  distinct  corporation,  a  pc  ri- 
tive  institution.  Independence  and  influence  were  not  suffi- 
cient for  them — privilege  was  necessary.  Now,  from  whom 
could  they  obtain  it,  except  from  the  clergy  ?  The  authority 
of  the  bishops  could  alone  constitute  them  separate  from  the 
religious  society  in  general,  and  privilege  them  in  its  bosom. 
They  demanded  these  privileges,  and  obtained  them,  but  by 
paying  for  them.  There  was  one,  for  instance,  very  simple, 
that  of  not  going  to  the  church  of  the  parish,  of  constructing 
one  in  the  interior  of  the  monastery,  and  there  celebrating 
divine  service.  They  granted  it  to  them  without  difficulty  ; 
but  it  was  necessary  that  priests  should  do  duty  in  these 
churches  ;  now  the  monks  were  not  priests,  and  had  not  the 
right  of  doing  duty.  They  gave  them  priests,  and  the  exter- 
nal clergy  from  that  time  had  a  place  in  the  interior  of  mo- 
nasteries ;  men  were  there  sent  from  it  as  delegates,  inspect- 
ors. By  this  fact  alone,  the  independence  of  the  monks 
already  endured  a  serious  blow  :  they  saw,  and  attempted  to 
remedy,  the  evil ;  they  demanded  that  instead  of  priests  sent 
from  without,  the  bishop  should  ordain  some  monks  priests. 
The  clergy  consented  to  it,  and  under  the  name  of  hiero. 
monachi,  the  monasteries  had  priests  chosen  from  out  of  their 
own  body.  They  were  rather  less  strangers  than  those  who 
came  from  without,  but  still  they  belonged  to  the  secular 
clergy,  took  its  spirit,  associate  J  themselves  with  its  interests, 
separated  themselves  more  or  less  from  their  brothers  ;  and 
by  this  simple  distinction,  established  between  the  simple 
monks  and  the  priests,  between  those  who  were  present  at 
the  service,  and  those  who  performed  it,  the  monastic  insti- 
iuiion  already  lost  part  of  its  independence  and  of  its  homo- 
geneity. 

The  loss  was  so  real  that  more  than  one  superior  of  a  mo- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  305 

nastery,  more  than  one  abbot  perceived  it,  and  attempted  to 
repair  it,  at  least  to  limit  it.  The  rules  of  many  monastic 
orders  speak  of  priests  established  in  the  monastery  with  dis 
trust,  and  apply  themselves  sometimes  to  restrain  their  num- 
ber, sometimes  the  influence  of  them. 

Saint  Benedict,  in  his,  formally  inserted  two  chapters  on  this- 
subject : 

"  If  an  abbot,"  says  he,  "  wishes  to  have  a  priest  or  a  dea- 
con  ordained  for  him,  let  him  select  from  among  his  people 
one  who  is  worthy  to  perform  the  sacerdotal  functions.  But 
let  him  who  is  ordained  guard  against  all  pride,  and  let  him 
not  contend  against  anything  which  shall  be  enjoined  him  by 
the  abbot ;  let  him  know  that  he  is  even  more  subject  to  the 
regular  discipline  than  any  other ;  that  the  priesthood  is  not  a 
reason  for  him  to  forget  obedience  and  rule ;  but  let  him  more 
and  more  advance  in  God,  and  always  keep  to  the  i'unctions 
by  which  he  entered  into  the  monastery,  except  the  duties  of 
the  altar,  when  even,  by  choice  of  the  congregation,  and  the 
will  of  the  abbot,  he  shall  be,  by  reason  of  the  merits  of  his 
life,  raised  to  a  more  elevated  rank.  Let  him  know  that  he 
must  observe  the  rule  established  by  the  deans  and  priors ; 
that  if  he  dare  to  act  otherwise,  he  shall  not  be  judged  as  a 
priest  but  as  a  rebel.  And  if,  after  having  been  frequently 
warned,  he  does  not  correct  himself,  Jet  the  bishop  himself  be 
called  as  witness.  If  he  do  not  amend,  and  his  faults  be 
glaring,  let  him  be  driven  from  the  monastery,  in  case  he 
will  not  still  submit,  nor  obey  the  rule."1 

"  If  any  one  of  the  order  of  priests  ask  to  be  received  into 
the  monastery,  let  it  not  be. immediately  consented  to  ;  if  he 
persist  in  his  request,  let  him  know  that  he  shall  submit  to 
the  whole  discipline  and  rule,  and  that  nothing  shall  be  abated 
him."1 

This  rather  jealous  fear,  this  vigilance  to  repress  the  arro- 
gance of  priests,  to  subject  them  to  the  life  of  monks,  was 
also  manifested  elsewhere,  and  by  other  symptoms  ;  they  only 
the  better  prove  the  progress  of  the  external  clergy  in  the 
interior  of  monasteries,  and  the  danger  in  which  it  placed 
their  ancient  independence. 

It  had  to  submit  to  an  entirely  different  check.  Not  con- 
tent with  being  separated  from  the  lay  society,  and  being 


1  Reg.  S.  Bencd.,  c.  62.  *  lb.,  c.  80. 


306  HISTORY    OF 

raised  above  it  by  their  privileges,  the  monks  conceived  the 
ambition  of  entering  fully  into  the  ecclesiastical  society,  of 
participating  in  the  privileges  and  power  of  the  clergy.  Thk 
ambition  was  shown  in  the  monastical  institution  at  a  very 
early  period.  It  was  not  approved  of  by  all.  The  exalted 
and  austere  monks,  those  whose  imagination  was  strongly 
filled  with  the  holiness  of  the  monastic  life,  and  aspired  to  all 
its  glories,  were  averse  to  receiving  the  sacred  orders.  Some 
regarded  the  clerical  as  a  worldly  life,  which  deterred  th*^m 
from  the  contemplation  of  divine  things  ;  the  others  thougnt 
themselves  unworthy  of  the  priesthood,  and  did  not  find  them- 
selves in  a  sufficiently  perfect  state  to  celebrate  divine  ser- 
vice. Hence  arose  some  singular  incidents  in  the  relations 
between  the  monks  and  the  clergy.  In  the  fourth  century, 
while  Saint  Epiphanus  was  bishop  in  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
there  was  a  monk  in  the  island  named  Paulinianus,  celebrated 
for  his  virtues,  and  in  great  reputation  for  sanctity.  They 
frequently  proposed  making  him  a  priest ;  he  always  de- 
clined, saying  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  it ;  but  Saint  Epi 
phanus  positively  insisted  upon  consecrating  him.  He  pro- 
ceeded in  the  following  manner:  it  is  himself  who  gives  the 
account : 

"  When  they  celebrated  mass  in  the  church  of  a  village  near 
our  monastery,  without  his  being  aware  of  it,  or  in  the  least 
expecting  it,  we  had  him  seized  by  a  number  of  deacons,  and 
had  his  mouth  held,  for  fear  that,  wishing  to  escape,  he  should 
adjure  us  in  the  name  of  Christ.  We  at  first  ordained  him 
deacon,  and  summoned  him,  by  the  fear  he  had  for  God,  to 
fulfil  the  office.  He  strongly  resisted,  maintaining  that  he 
was  unworthy.  It  was  almost  necessary  to  force  him,  for  we 
had  great  difficulty  in  persuading  him  by  testimonies  of  the 
Writings,  and  in  citing  the  commands  of  God.  And  when  he 
had  performed  the  duties  of  deacon  in  the  holy  sacrifice,  we 
again  had  his  mouth  held,  with  great  difficulty  ;  we  ordained 
him  priest,  and  for  the  same  reasons  which  we  had  already 
impressed  upon  him,  we  decided  him  to  take  a  place  among 
the  priests."1 

They  rarely  came  to  such  violent  extremities ;  but  I  might 
cite  many  other  examples  of  monks  who  were  sincerely  re- 
ougnant  to  becoming  priests,  and  obstinately  refused. 


Sunt  Epiphanus,  lett.  to  John,  bishop  of  Jerusalem,  vol.  ii  ,  p.  319. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FKANC.E.  307 

Such,  however,  was  far  from  being  their  general  character. 
The  greater  part  were  very  anxious  to  enter  into  orders,  for 
the  clergy  was  the  superior  body :  to  be  received  into  its  bo- 
som was  to  be  raised.  "  If  the  desire  to  become  a  priest  ex- 
cite you,"  says  Saint  Jerome  to  a  monk,  "  learn,  that  you  may 
be  able  to  teach ;  pretend  not  to  be  a  soldier  without  having 
been  a  militiaman,  and  a  master  before  having  been  a  disci- 
ple."1 In  fact,  the  desire  to  become  priests  so  keenly  excited 
the  monks,  that  Cassienus  ranks  it  among  the  temptations  with 
which  the  demon  pursued  them,  and  especially  among  those 
which  he  attributes  to  the  demon  of  vain-glory. 

"  Sometimes,"  says  he,  "the  demon  of  vain-glory  inspires 
a  monk  with  a  desire  for  the  degrees  of  the  clergy,  the  priest- 
hood, or  the  deaconship.  According  to  him,  if  he  be  invested 
with  it,  despite  himself,  he  will  fill  the  duties  with  so  much 
rigor,  that  he  might  offer  examples  of  holiness  even  to  other 
priests,  and  might  gain  many  people  over  to  the  church,  not 
only  by  his  admirable  way  of  living,  but  by  his  doctrine  and 
discourses."2  And  he  relates  the  following  anecdote  upon  this 
subject — a  singular  proof,  truly,  of  the  passion  with  which 
certain  monks  aspired  to  become  priests,  and  of  the  empire 
which  this  desire  possessed  over  their  imagination : — 

"  I  remember,"  says  he,  "  that  during  my  stay  in  the  soli- 
tude of  Scythia,  an  old  man  told  me,  that  going  one  day  to  the 
cell  of  a  certain  brother,  to  visit  him,  as  he  approached  the 
door,  he  heard  him  within  pronouncing  certain  words;  he 
stopped  a  little,  wishing  to  know  what  he  read  of  the  Scrip- 
ture, or  else  what  he  repeated  from  memory,  according  to 
usage.  And  as  this  pious  spy  curiously,  listened,  with  his  ear 
at  the  door,  he  perceived  that  the  spirit  of  vain-glory  tempted 
the  brother,  for  he  spoke  as  if  he  addressed  a  sermon  to  the 
people  in  the  church.  The  old  man  still  stopped,  and  he 
heard  that  the  brother,  after  having  finished  his  sermon, 
changed  his  office,  and  did  the  duties  of  deacon  at  the  mass 
of  the  catechumens.  He  at  last  knocked  at  the  door,  and  the 
brother  came  to  meet  him  with  his  accustomed  veneration, 
and  introduced  him  into  his  cell.  Then,  rather  troubled  in  his 
conscience  at  the  thoughts  which  had  occupied  him,  he  asked 
him  how  long  he  had  been  there,  fearing,  without  doubt,  tha> 


1  Saint  Jerome,  lett.  4,  ad  Rusticum. 
»  Cassienus,  de  Ccenob.  inst.,  xi.,  14. 


308  HISTORY    OF 

he  had  insulted  him  by  keeping  him  waiting  at  the  door ;  and 
the  old  man  answered,  smiling :  <  I  arrived  just  as  you  cele- 
brated the  mass  of  the  catechumens.'  "l 

Of  a  surety  men  preoccupied  to  such  a  degree  by  such  a 
desire,  would  unhesitatingly  have  sacrificed  their  independ- 
ence to  it.  Let  us  see  how  they  attained  their  end,  and  what 
result  this  success  had  for  them. 

The  clergy  at  first  looked  upon  the  ambition  of  the  monks 
with  a  good  deal  of  jeaknuy  and  distrust.  At  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, some  bishops,  more  vigorous  and  discerning  than  others, 
or  with  some  particular  end  in  view,  received  them  favorably. 
Saint  Athanasius,  for  example,  bishop  of  Alexandria,  engaged 
in  his  great  contest  against  the  Arians,  visited  the  monasteries 
of  Egypt,  loaded  the  monks  with  distinction,  and  selected 
many  to  ordain  as  priests,  and  even  to  make  bishops  of.  The 
monks  were  orthodox,  eager,  popular.  Athanasius  saw  that 
in  them  he  should  have  powerful  and  devoted  allies.  His 
example  was  followed  by  some  bishops  in  the  west,  especially 
by  Saint  Ambrose  at  Milan,  and  by  Eusebius,  bishop  of  Ver- 
ceil.  But  the  episcopacy  in  general  behaved  differently :  it 
continued  to  treat  the  pretensions  of  the  monks  coldly,  scorn- 
fully, and  to  combat  them  underhand.  Proofs  of  it  are  in 
writing  down  to  the  seventh  century.  At  the  end  of  the 
fourth,  for  example,  the  bishop  of  Rome,  Saint  Siricius  (384 
— 398),  allowed  holy  orders  to  be  conferred  upon  them,  but 
with  many  stipulations,  lest  too  large  a  number  of  monks 
should  penetrate  into  the  clergy.  In  the  middle  of  the  follow- 
ing century,  Saint  Leo  (440 — 460)  engaged  Maximus,  patri- 
arch of  Antioch,  not  too  easily  to  allow  permission  to  preach 
to  the  monks  of  his  diocese,  even  to  the  most  holy,  because 
their  preaching  might  have  serious  consequences  for  the  influ- 
ence of  the  clergy.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  Saint 
Gregory  the  Great  recommended  the  bishops  to  ordain  monks 
as  parish-priests  but  rarely,  and  to  employ  them  with  reserve. 
Upon  the  whole,  amidst  even  the  favors  which  it  exhibits  to- 
wards them,  the  episcopacy  always  shows  itself  jealous  of  the 
monks,  and  inclined  to  separate  them  from  the  clergy. 

But  the  progress  of  their  popularity  surmounted  this  secret 
resistac.ee.  It  was  soon  acknowledged  that  theirs,  of  all 
lives,  was  the  Christian  life ;  that  it  surpassed  in  merit  that 


1  Cassienus,  de  Ccenob.  inst.,  xi.,  15. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  309 

of  the  external  clergy,  who  could  not  do  better  than  imitate 
them ;  and  that  a  priest,  or  even  a  bishop,  in  becoming  a 
monk,  advanced  in  the  paths  of  holiness  and  salvation.  The 
councils  themselves,  composed  of  bishops,  proclaimed  these 
maxims  : — 

"  If  priests,"  says  a  council  of  Toledo,  "  desiring  to  follow 
a  better  life,  wish  to  embrace  the  rule  of  the  monks,  let  the 
bishop  give  them  free  access  into  the  monasteries,  and  in  no 
way  obstruct  the  design  of  those  who  wish  to  give  themselves 
up  to  contemplation."1 

When  they  were  generally  recognized,  there  was  no  longer 
any  means  of  resisting  the  invasion  of  the  monks,  nor  of  paT. 
simoniously  granting  them  the  priesthood  and  episcopacy.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  seventh  century,  Boniface  IV.  pro- 
claims that  they  are  plus  quam  idonei,  more  than  fitted  for  all 
the  functions  of  the  clergy  ;  and  gradually  events  and  minds 
progressed  in  this  direction  ;  the  monks  found  themselves  in- 
corporated  in  the  clergy ;  and,  while  preserving  a  distinct 
existence,  associated  on  every  occasion  with  its  privileges  and 
power.  It  is  impossible  to  determine  exactly  the  date  of  this 
admission ;  it  was  progressive  and,  for  a  long  time,  incomplete  ; 
even  in  the  eighth  century,  the  monks  were  at  times  still 
called  laymen,  and  considered  as  such.  Still  it  may  be  said 
that,  about  the  end  of  the  sixth  and  at  the  beginning  of  the 
seventh  century,  the  revolution  for  which  they  had  labored 
from  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  was  consummated.  Let 
us  see  what  were  the  results  of  it,  as  regards  their  external 
condition — what  was  the  condition  of  the  monks  in  the  clergy 
when  they  decidedly  formed  a  part  of  it. 

It  is  evident  that  they  must  have  lost  there  a  great  deal  of 
independence,  and  that  the  authority  of  the  bishops  over 
monasteries  was  necessarily  extended  and  confirmed.  You 
know  what  the  power  of  the  episcopacy  was  over  parish  priests 
from  the  seventh  to  the  eighth  century.  The  fortune  of  monks 
was  no  better.  Those  little  associations  which  we  have  jusi 
seen  so  independent,  over  which  the  bishops  had  scarcely  a 
moral  jurisdiction,  which  they  labored  with  so  much  care  to 
draw  beneath  their  empire,  see  how  they  were  treated  at  the 
■eyenth  century.  I  shall  leave  the  councils  to  speak  for 
themselves : — 


Council  of  Toledo,  in  633,  c.  60. 
28 


310  HISTORY   OF 

"  It  has  been  given  out  at  the  present  council  that  monka^ 
by  order  of  the  bishops,  are  subject  to  servile  labors,  and  that, 
against  the  canonical  orders,  the  rights  of  monasteries  are 
usurped  with  an  illegitimate  audacity  ;  so  that  a  monastery 
becomes  almost  a  domain,  and  that  illustrious  part  of  the 
body  of  Christ  is  almost  reduced  to  ignominy  and  servitude. 
We  therefore  warn  the  chiefs  of  the  churches  that  they  no 
longer  commit  anything  of  the  kind  ;  and  that  the  bishops  do 
nothing  in  monasteries  except  what  the  canons  direct  them ; 
that  is,  exhort  the  monks  to  a  holy  life,  appoint  the  abbots 
and  other  officers,  and  reform  such  things  as  shall  be  against 
rule."1 

"  As  regards  presents  that  are  made  to  a  monastery,  let  not 
the  bishops  touch  them."2 

"  A  most  deplorable  thing  there  is,  which  we  are  forced  to 
extirpate  by  a  severe  censure.  We  have  learnt  that  certain 
bishops  unjustly  establish  as  prelates  in  certain  monasteries 
some  of  their  relations  or  favorites,  and  procure  them  iniqui- 
tous advantages,  to  the  end  that  they  may  receive,  through 
them,  both  what  is  in  fact  regularly  due  to  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese,  and  all  that  the  violence  of  the  exactor  .whom  they 
have  sent  can  seize  from  the  monasteries."8 

I  might  greatly  multiply  these  quotations  :  all  would  equally 
attest  that,  at  this  epoch,  the  monasteries  were  subjected  to  an 
odious  tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  bishops. 

They,  however,  had  means  of  resistance,  and  they  made  use 
of  them.  In  order  to  explain  the  nature  of  these  means  satis- 
factorily, allow  me  to  leave  the  monks  for  a  moment,  and  call 
your  attention  to  an  analogous  fact,  and  one  much  better 
known. 

Every  one  is  aware  that,  from  the  eighth  to  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, the  cities,  large  or  small,  which  still  existed  in  Gaul, 
were  induced  to  enter  into  the  feudal  society,  to  assume  the 
characteristics  of  the  new  system,  to  take  a  place  in  its  hier- 
archy, to  contract  its  obligations  in  order  to  possess  its  rights, 
to  live  under  the  patronage  of  a  lord.  This  patronage  was 
harsh,  oppressive,  and  the  cities  impatiently  supported  ita 
weight.     At  a  very  early  period,  when  they  first  engaged  in 


1  Council  of  Toledo,  in  633,  c.  51 

2  Coun.  of  Lerida,  in  524,  c.  3. 
8  Coun:  of  Toledo,  in  655,  c  3. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  311 

feudalism,  they  attempted  to  shake  it  off,  to  regain  some  inde- 
pendence. What  were  their  means  ?  In  the  boroughs  there 
was  the  wreck  of  the  ancient  municipal  system :  in  theii 
miserable  condition,  they  still  selected  some  obscure  magis- 
trates :  some  property  remained  to  them ;  they  administered 
this  property  themselves :  in  a  word,  they  preserved,  in  some 
respects,  an  existence  distinct  from  that  which  they  had  as- 
sumed in  entering  the  feudal  society,  an  existence  which  was 
connected  with  institutions,  with  principles,  and  with  a  social 
state,  all  of  them  entirely  different.  These  remains  of  their 
ancient  existence,  these  wrecks  of  the  municipal  system,  be- 
came the  fulcrum  by  the  aid  of  which  the  boroughs  struggled 
against  the  feudal  master  who  had  invaded  them,  and  pro- 
gressively regained  some  degree  of  liberty. 

An  analogous  fact  was  brought  about  in  the  history  of  mo- 
nasteries, and  of  their  relations  with  the  clergy.  You  have 
just  seen  the  monks  entering  into  the  ecclesiastical  society, 
and  falling  under  the  authority  of  the  bishops,  as  the  commons 
entered  at  a  later  period  into  the  feudal  society,  and  fell  under 
the  authority  of  the  lords.  But  the  monks  also  retained  some 
of  their  primitive  existence,  of  their  original  independence ; 
for  example,  they  had  had  domains  given  them :  these  do- 
mains were  not  confounded  with  those  of  the  bishop  in  whose 
diocese  the  monastery  was  situated  ;  they  were  not  lost  in  the 
mass  of  church  property  of  which  the  bishop  had  the  sole  ad- 
ministration ;  they  remained  the  distinct  and  personal  proper- 
ty of  each  establishment.  The  monks  accordingly  continued 
to  exercise  some  of  their  rights  ;  the  election  of  their  abbot 
and  other  monastic  affairs,  the  interior  administration  of  the 
monastery,  &c.  In  the  same  way,  therefore,  as  the  boroughs 
retain  some  wreck  of  the  municipal  system,  and  of  their  pro- 
perty, and  made  use  of  them  in  order  to  struggle  against  feu- 
dal tyranny,  so  did  the  monks  preserve  some  remnants  of  their 
internal  constitution  and  of  their  property,  and  made  use  of 
them  in  struggling  against  episcopal  tyranny.  So  that  the 
boroughs  followed  the  route  and  in  the  steps  of  the  monasteries ; 
not  that  they  imitated  them,  but  because  the  same  situation  led 
to  the  same  results. 

Let  us  follow  in  its  vicissitudes  the  resistance  of  the  monks 
against  the  bishops  ;  we  shall  see  this  analogy  developed  more 
and  more. 

The  contest  was  at  first  limited  to  complaints,  to  protesta- 
tions, carried  either  before  the  bishop  himself,  or  before  the 


9 
312  HISTORY   OF 

councils.  Sometimes  the  councils  received  them,  and  issued 
canons  to  put  a  stop  to  the  evil :  I  have  just  read  to  you  texts 
which  prove  it.  But  a  written  remedy  is  of  little  efficacy. 
The  monks  felt  the  necessity  of  recurring  to  some  other  means. 
They  openly  resisted  their  bishop ;  they  refused  to  obey  his  in- 
junctions, to  receive  him  in  the  monastery  j  more  than  once 
they  repulsed  his  envoys  by  force  of  arms.  Still  their  resist- 
ance Aveighed  heavily  upon  them ;  the  bishop  excommuni- 
cated them,  interdicted  their  priests  :  the  struggle  was  griev- 
ous for  all.  They  treated.  The  monks  promised  to  resumo 
order,  to  make  presents  to  the  bishop,  to  cede  to.  him  some 
part  of  the  domain,  if  he  was  willing  to  promise  to  respect 
the  monastery  thenceforward,  not  to  pillage  tneir  property,  to 
leave  them  in  peaceful  enjoyment  of  their  rights.  The  bishop 
consented,  and  gave  a  charter  to  the  monastery.  They  are 
regular  charters,  these  immunities,  these  privileges  conferred 
upon  monasteries  by  their  bishop,  the  use  of  which  became 
so  frequent  that  we  find  an  official  compilation  of  them  in  the 
Formula  of  Marculf.  I  will  read  it :  you  will  be  struck  with 
the  character  of  these  acts : 

"  To  the  holy  lord  and  brother  in  Christ,  the  abbot  of 

or  to  the  whole  congregation  of monastery,  built  at 

by ,  in  honor  of  Saint ,  bishop, .     The 

love  which  we  bear  you  has  impelled  us,  by  Divine  inspiration, 
to  regulate  for  your  repose  things  which  assure  us  eternal  re- 
compense, and,  without  turning  us  from  the  right  road,  or 
overstepping  any  limit,  to  establish  rules  which  may  obtain 
by  the  aid  of  the  Lord  an  eternal  duration,  for  we  do  not 
insure  the  least  recompense  from  God  in  applying  ourselves 
to  what  must  come  to  pass  in  future  times,  without  giving 
succor  to  the  poor  in  the  present  time.  .  .  .  We  think  it  our 
duty  to  insert  in  this  sheet  what  you  and  your  successors 
should  do  with  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  rather 
that  to  which  the  bishop  of  the  holy  church  himself  is  bound  : 
namely,  that  those  of  your  congregation  who  are  to  exercise 
the  holy  services  in  your  monastery,  when  they  shall  be  pre- 
sented by  the  abbot  and  all  the  congregation,  receive  from  us 
or  our  successors  the  sacred  orders,  without  making  any  gift 
for  this  honor ;  that  the  said  bishop,  out  of  respect  for  the 
place,  and  without  receiving  any  recompense,  consecrate  the 
altar  of  the  monastery,  and  grant,  if  it  be  demanded  of  him, 
the  holy  oil  each  year ;  and  when,  by  Divine  will,  one  abbot 
shall  pass  from  the  monastery  to  God,  let  the  bishop  of  the 


CIVILIZATION  #N    FRANCE.  313 

place,  without  expecting  recompense,  elevate  to  the  rank  of 
abbot,  the  monk  most  remarkable  for  the  merits  of  his  life, 
whom  he  shall  find  selected  by  I  he  brethren.  And  let  them 
take  nothing  which  has  been  offered  by  God-fearing  men  tc 
the  abbey.  And  unless  requested  by  the  congregation  or  the 
abbot,  to  go  there  for  the  sake  of  prayer,  let  none  of  us  enter 
into  the  interior  of  a  monastery,  nor  overstep  its  enclosure. 
And  if,  after  having  been  begged  so  to  do  by  the  monks,  the 
bishop  come  for  the  purposes  of  prayer,  or  to  be  useful  to 
them  in  anything,  after  the  celebration  of  the  holy  mysteries, 
and  after  having  received  simple  and  brief  thanks,  let  him 
set  about  regaining  his  dwelling  without  being  required  so  to 
do  by  any  one,  so  that  the  monks  who  are  accounted  solita- 
ries may,  with  the  help  of  God,  pass  the  time  in  perfect  tran- 
quillity, and  that,  living  under  a  holy  rule,  and  imitating  the 
holy  fathers,  they  may  the  more  perfectly  implore  God  for 
the  good  of  the  church,  and  the  salvation  of  the  country. 
And  if  any  monks  of  this  order  conduct  themselves  with  indif- 
ference, and  not  as  they  should,  if  it  is  necessary  let  them  be 
corrected  according  to  rule  by  their  abbot ;  if  not,  the  bishop 
of  the  town  must  restrain  them,  in  order  that  the  canonical 
authority  be  deprived  of  nothing  which  tends  to ,  the  repose 
of  the  servants  of  the  faith.  If  any  of  our  successors  (which 
God  forbid),  full  of  perfidy,  and  impelled  by  cupidity,  desire, 
in  a  spirit  of  audacity,  to  violate  the  things  herein  contained, 
overwhelmed  by  the  blow  of  divine  vengeance,  let  him  be 
anathematized  and  excluded  from  the  communion  of  the  bro- 
therhood for  three  years,  and  let  this  privilege  be  not  the  less 
eternally  immovable  for  nis  conduct.  In  order  that  this  con- 
stitution may  remain  always  in  vigor,  we  and  our  brothers, 
the  lords  bishops,  have  confirmed  it  with  our  signatures. 

"  Done,  this day  of  the  year  of  our  Lord ."l 

When  we  come  to  the  history  of  the  commons,  you  will  see 
that  many  of  the  charters  which  they  wrested  from  their 
lords,  seem  to  have  been  framed  upon  this  model. 

It  happened  to  the  monasteries  as  it  was  afterwards  to  hap- 
pen to  the  commons :  their  privileges  were  constantly  violated 
or  altogether  abolished.  They  were  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  a  higher  guarantee,  and  they  invoked  that  of  the  king :  a 
natural  pretext  presented  itself;  the  kings  themselves  founded 


1  Marculf,  b.  i.  f.  1. 


314  hist^y  of 

monasteries,  and  in  founding  them  took  some  precautions  fo; 
shielding  them  from  the  tyranny  of  the  bishops ;  they  re. 
tained  them  under  their  especial  protection,  and  prohibited  any 
usurpation  of  the  property  or  rights  of  the  monks  on  the  part 
of  the  bishops.  Thus  originated  the  intervention  of  royalty 
between  the  monasteries  and  the  clergy.  By  and  bye,  monas- 
teries which  had  not  been  founded  by  kings  had  recourse  to 
their  protection,  and  attained  it  for  money  or  some  other  con- 
sideration. The  kings  in  no  way  interfered  with  the  juris- 
diction of  the  bishops,  they  disputed  none  of  their  religious 
rights ;  the  protection  accorded  by  them  had  exclusive  refer- 
ence to  monastic  property  ;  as  this  protection  was  more  or  less 
efficacious,  the  bishops  used  every  effort  to  elude  it ;  they 
refused  to  recognize  the  letters  of  protection  and  immunity 
granted  by  the  king;  sometimes  they  falsified  them  by  the 
assistance  of  some  treacherous  brother,  or  even  wholly  ab- 
stracted them  from  the  archives  of  the  monastery.  After  a 
while,  in  order  more  fully  to  possess  themselves  of  the  con- 
stantly augmenting  wealth  of  these  establishments,  they 
thought  of  another  plan  :  they  procured  their,  own  nomination 
as  abbots  of  the  more  valuable  monasteries :  an  opening  to 
this  encroachment  presented  itseif ;  many  monks  had  become 
bishops,  and  for  the  most  part,  bishops  of  the  diocese  in  which 
their  own  monastery  was  situated;  in  this  monastery  they 
had  taken  care  to  keep  up  friends,  partizans ;  and  the  post  of 
abbot  becoming  vacant,  frequently  found  no  difficulty  in 
securing  it  for  themselves.  Thus,  at  once  bishops  and  abbots, 
they  gave  themselves  up  without  restraint  to  the  most  mon- 
strous abuses.  The  monasteries  in  every  direction  were 
sorely  oppressed,  were  recklessly  despoiled  by  their  heads ; 
the  monks  looked  around  for  a  new  protector,  they  addressed 
themselves  to  the  pope.  The  papal  power  had  keen  long 
strengthening  and  extending  itself,  and  it  eagerly  availed 
itself  of  every  opportunity  of  still  further  extending  itself;  il 
interposed  as  royalty  had  interposed,  keeping,  at  all  events 
for  a  long  time,  within  the  same  limits,  making  no  attempt  to 
narrow  the  spiritual  jurisdiction  of  the  bishops,  and  abridging 
them  of  no  spiritual  right ;  applying  itself  only  to  repress 
their  aggressions  upon  property  and  persons,  and  to  maintain 
inviolate  the  established  monastic  rule.  The  privileges 
granted  by  the  popes  to  certain  monasteries  of  Frankish-Gaul 
previously  to  the  commencement  of  the  eighth  century  kept 
strictly  within  its  limits,  in  no  case  removing  them  from  the 


CIVILIZATION  IN   FRANCE.  315 

episcopal  to  the  papal  jurisdiction.  The  monastery  of  Fulda 
presents  us  with  the  first  instance  of  such  a  transfer,  and  this 
took  place  by  the  consent  of  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  Saint 
Boniface,  who  himself  placed  the  monastery  under  the  direct 
authority  of  the  holy  see.  This  is  the  first  instance  of  such 
a  proceeding  that  we  meet  with  ;  neither  popes  nor  kings  had 
ever  before  interfered,  except  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
the  bishops  within  the  just  limits  of  their  authority. 

Such  were  the  changes  through  which,  in  the  interval  I 
have  described,  the  monastic  associations  passed,  in  their  re- 
lations with  the  clergy.  Their  original  condition  was  that  of 
independence ;  this  independence  was  lessened  the  moment 
that  they  obtained  from  the  clergy  some  of  the  privileges 
which  they  had  solicited  from  that  body.  The  privileges  so 
obtained,  only  served  to  augment  their  ambition  :  they  became 
bent  upon  entering  the  ecclesiastical  corporation :  they  did 
enter  it,  after  a  while,  and  found  themselves  thenceforward 
subject,  like  the  priests,  to ,  the  ill-defined,  the  unlimited 
anthority  of  the  bishops.  The  bishops  abused  their  authority, 
the  monasteries  resisted,  and  in  virtue  of  what  still  remained 
to  them  of  their  original  independence,  procured  guarantees, 
charters.  The  charters  being  slighted,  the  monks  had  recourse 
to  the  civil  authority,  to  royalty,  and  royalty  confirmed  the 
charters,  and  took  the  monks  under  its  protection.  This 
protection  proving  inadequate,  the  monks  next  addressed 
themselves  to  the  pope,  who  interposed  by  another  title,  but 
without  any  more  decisive  success.  It  is  in  this  struggle  of 
royal  and  papal  protection  against  episcopal  tyranny,  that  we 
lea.e  the  monasteries  in  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century. 
Under  the  Carlovingian  race,  they  had  to  experience  still 
more  terrible  shocks,  assaults  which  it  required  their  utmost 
efforts  to  overcome.  We  will  speak  of  these  at  the  propei 
time  ;  at  present,  the  analogy  between  the  history  of  the 
monasteries  and  that  of  the  commons,  which  manifested  itself 
two  centuries  later,  is  the  fact  which  most  peculiarly  calls  foi 
an  observation. 

We  have  now  completed  the  history  of  social  civilization, 
from  the  sixth  to  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century.  We  have 
gone  through  the  revolutions  of  civil  and  of  religious  society, — 
viewed  each  of  them  in  their  various  elements.  We  have 
still  to  study  the  history,  during  the  same  period,  of  purely 
intellectual  and  moral  civilization  ;  of  the  ideas  which  then 


816  HISTORY   OF 

occupied  men's  minds,  the  works  which  these  ideas  gave  hirth 
to— in  a  word,  the  philosophical  and  literary  history  of  France 
at  this  epoch.  We  will  enter  upon  this  study  in  our  next 
lecture. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE  317 


SIXTEENTH  LECTURE. 

From  the  sixl.h  to  the  eighth  century  all  profane  literature  disappeared ; 
sacred  literature  alone  remained — This  is  evident  in  the  schools  and 
writings  of  this  epoch — 1.  Of  the  schools  in  Gaul  from  the  sixth  to 
the  eighth  century — Cathedral  schools — Rural  schools — Monastic 
schools — What  they  taught  there — 2.  Of  the  writings  of  the  day — 
General  character  of  literature — It  ceased  to  be  speculative,  and  to 
seek  more  especially  science  and  intellectual  enjoyments ;  it  be- 
came practical ;  knowledge,  eloquence,  writings,  were  made  means 
of  action — Influence  of  this  characteristic  upon  the  idea  formed  of 
the  intellectual  state  at  this  epoch — It  produced  scarcely  any  works, 
it  has  no  literature  properly  so  called ;  still  minds  were  active — Its 
literature  consists  in  sermons  and  legends — Bishops  and  missionaries 
— 1st.  Of  Saint  Cesaire,  bishop  of  Aries — Of  his  sermons — 2d.  Of 
Saint  Columban,  missionary,  and  abbot  of  Luxeuil — Character  of 
sacred  eloquence  at  this  epoch. 

In  studying  the  state  of  Gaul  at  the  fourth  and  fifth  cen- 
turies,1 we  found  two  literatures,  the  one  sacred,  the  other 
profane.  The  distinction  was  marked  in  persons  and  in 
things ;  the  laity  and  the  ecclesiastics  studied,  meditated, 
wrote ;  and  they  studied,  they  wrote,  they  meditated,  upon 
lay  subjects,  and  upon  religious  subjects.  Sacred  literature 
dominated  more  and  more,  but  it  was  not  alone,  profane 
literature  still  existed. 

From  the  fourth  to  the  eighth  century,  there  is  no  longer 
any  profane  literature ;  sacred  literature  stands  alone  ;  priests 
only  study  or  write ;  and  they  only  study,  they  only  write, 
save  some  rare  exceptions,  upon  religious  subjects.  The 
general  character  of  the  epoch  is  the  concentration  of  intel- 
lectual development  in  the  religious  sphere.  The  fact  is 
evident,  whether  we  regard  the  state  of  the  schools  which  still 
existed,  or  the  works  which  have  come  down  to  us. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  you  will  remember,  were  in 
no  want  of  civil  schools,  of  civil  professors,  instituted  by  the 
temporal  power,  and  teaching  the  profane  sciences.  All 
those  great  schools  of  Gaul,  the  organization  and  names  of 


1  Lecture  4th,  pp.  84—103. 


318  HISTORY   OF 

which  I  have  mentioned  to  you,  were  of  this  description.  I 
have  even  pointed  out  to  you,  that  as  yet  there  were  nc 
ecclesiastical  schools,  and  that  religious  doctrines,  which 
daily  became  more  powerful  over  minds,  were  not  regularly 
taught,  had  no  legal  and  official  organ.  Towards  the  end 
of  the  sixth  century,  everything  is  changed :  there  are  no 
longer  civil  schools ;  ecclesiastical  schools  alone  subsist.  Those 
great  municipal  schools  of  Treves,  of  Poictiers,  of  Vienne,  of 
Bordeaux,  &c,  have  disappeared ;  in  their  place  have  arisen 
schools  called  cathedral  or  episcopal  schools,  because  each 
episcopal  see  had  its  own.  The  cathedral  school  was  not 
always  alone  ;  we  find  in  certain  dioceses  other  schools,  of  an 
uncertain  nature  and  origin,  wrecks,  perhaps,  of  some  ancient 
civil  school,  which,  in  becoming  metamorphosed,  had  perpetu- 
ated itself.  In  the  diocese  of  Reims,  for  example,  there  ex- 
isted the  school  of  Mouzon,  some  distance  from  the  chief 
place  of  the  diocese,  and  in  high  credit,  although  Reims  had 
a  cathedral  school.  The  clergy  began  also,  about  the  same 
epoch,  to  create  other  schools  in  the  country,  also  ecclesi- 
astical, destined  to  form  young  readers  who  should  one  day 
become  priests.  In  529,  the  council  of  Vaison  strongly  re- 
commended the  propagation  of  country  schools ;  they  were, 
indeed,  multiplied  very  irregularly,  numerous  in  some  dioceses, 
scarcely  any  in  others.  Finally,  there  were  schools  in  the 
great  monasteries :  the  intellectual  exercises  were  of  two  kinds; 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  monks  gave  direct  instruc- 
tion to  the  members  of  the  congregation,  and  to  the  young 
people  who  were  being  brought  up  at  the  monastery ;  it  was, 
moreover,  the  custom,  in  a  large  number  of  monasteries,  that 
after  the  lectures  at  which  the  monks  were  bound  to  attend, 
they  should  have  conferences  among  themselves  upon  what- 
ever had  been  made  the  subject  of  the  lecture ;  and  these  con- 
ferences became  a  powerful  means  of  intellectual  development 
and  instruction. 

The  most  flourishing  of  the  episcopal  schools  from  the 
sixth  to  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century  were  those  of: 

1 .  Poictiers.    There  were  many  schools  in  the  monasteries 
of  the  diocese,  at  Poictiers  itself,  at  Liguge,  at  Ansion,  &c. 

2.  Paris. 

3.  Le  Mans. 

4.  Bourges. 

5.  Clermont.  There  was  another  school  in  the  town  where 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  319 

they  taught  the  Theodosian  code  ;  a  remarkable  circumstance, 
which  I  do  not  find  elsewhere. 

6.  Vienne. 

7.  Chdlons-sur-Saone. 

8.  Aries. 

9.  Gap. 

The  most  flourishing  of  the  monastic  schools  of  the  same 
epoch  were  those  of: 

1.  Luxeuil,  in  Franche-Comte. 

2.  Fontenelle,  or  Saint  Vandrille,  in  Normandy ;  in  which 
were  about  300  students. 

3.  Silhiu,  in  Normandy. 

4.  Saint  Medard,  at  Soissons. 

5.  her  ens. 

It  were  easy  to  extend  this  list ;  but  the  prosperity  of  mo- 
nastic schools  was  subject  to  great  vicissitudes ;  they  flourished 
under  a  distinguished  abbot,  and  declined  under  his  suc- 
cessor. 

Even  in  nunneries,  study  was  not  neglected ;  that,  which 
Saint  Cesaire  founded  at  Aries  contained,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  sixth  century,  two  hundred  nuns,  for  the  most 
part  occupied  in  copying  books,  sometimes  religious  books, 
sometimes,  probably,  even  the  works  of  the  ancients. 

The  metamorphosis  of  civil  schools  into  ecclesiastical 
schools  was  complete.  Let  us  see  what  was  taught  in  them. 
We  shall  often  find  in  them  the  names  of  sciences  formerly 
professed  in  the  civil  schools,  rhetoric,  logic,  grammar,  geo- 
metry, astrology,  &c. ;  but  these  were  evidently  no  longer 
taught  except  in  their  relations  to  theology.  This  is  the  foun- 
dation of  the  instruction  :  all  was  turned  into  commentary 
of  the  Scriptures,  historical,  philosophical,  allegorical,  moral, 
commentary.  They  desired  only  to  form  priests  ;  all  studies, 
whatsoever* their  nature,  were  directed  towards  this  result. 

"  Sometimes  they  went  even  further :  they  rejected  the 
profane  sciences  themselves,  whatever  might  be  the  use  made 
of  them.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  Saint  Dizier, 
bishop  of  Vienne,  taught  grammar  in  his  cathedral  school. 
Saint  Gregory  the  Great  sharply  blamed  him  for  it.  "  It  is 
not  fit,"  he  writes  to  him,  "  that  a  mouth  sacred  to  the  praises 
of  God,  should  be  opened  for  those  of  Jupiter."  I  do  not 
know  exactly  what  the  praises  of  God  or  of  Jupiter  had  to  do 
with  grammar  ;  but  what  is  evident,  is  the  crying  down  oX 
1he  profane  studies,  although  cultivated  by  the  priests. 


320  HISTORY   OF 

The  same  fact  is  visible,  and  far  more  plainly,  in  the  writ, 
ten  literature.  No  more  philosophical  meditations,  no  more 
learned  jurisprudence,  no  more  literary  criticism  ;  save  some 
chronicles,  some  occasional  poems,  of  which  I  shall  speak  at 
a  later  period,  we  have  nothing  belonging  to  this  time  except 
religious  works.  Intellectual  activity  appears  only  under  this 
form,  displays  itself  only  in  this  direction. 

A  still  more  important  revolution,  and  less  perceived,  is 
manifested  :  not  only  did  literature  become  entirely  religious, 
but,  religious,  it  ceased  to  be  literary  ;  there  was  no  longe- 
any  literature,  properly  so  called.  In  the  finest  times  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  in  Gaul,  up  to  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
empire,  people  studied,  they  wrote,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of 
studying,  of  knowing,  in  order  to  procure  for  themselves  and 
for  others  intellectual  enjoyment.  The  influence  of  letters 
over  society,  over  real  life,  was  only  indirect ;  it  was  not  the 
immediate  end  of  the  writers ;  in  a  word,  science  and  litera- 
ture were  essentially  disinterested,  devoted  to  the  research 
for  the  true  and  the  beautiful,  satisfied  with  finding  them,  with 
enjoying  them,  and  pretending  to  nothing  more. 

At  the  epoch  which  now  occupies  us  it  was  otherwise  ; 
people  no  longer  studied  in  order  to  know  ;  they  no  longer 
wrote  for  the  sake  of  writing.  Writings  and  studies  took  a 
practical  character  and  aim.  Whoever  abandoned  himself 
thereto,  aspired  to  immediate  action  upon  men,  to  regulate 
their  actions,  to  govern  their  life,  to  convert  those  who  did  not 
believe,  to  reform  those  who  believed  and  did  not  practise. 
Science  and  eloquence  were  means  of  action,  of  government. 
There  is  no  longer  a  disinterested  literature,  no  longer  any 
true  literature.  The  purely  speculative  character  of  philo- 
sophy, of  poetry,  of  letters,  of  the  arts,  has  vanished  ;  it  is  nc 
longer  the  beautiful  that  men  seek  ;  when  they  meet  with  it, 
it  no  longer  serves  merely  for  enjoyment ;  positive  application, 
influence  over  men,  authority  is  now  the  end,  the  triumph  of 
all  works  of  mind,  of  all  intellectual  development. 

It  is  from  not  having  taken  proper  heed  to  this  character- 
istic of  the  epoch  upon  which  we  are  occupied,  that,  in  my 
opinion,  a  false  idea  has  been  formed  of  it.  We  find  there 
scarcely  any  works,  no  literature,  properly  so  called,  no  dis- 
interested intellectual  activity  distinct  from  positive  life.  It 
has  been  thence  concluded,  and  you  have  surely  heard  it  said, 
you  may  everywhere  read,  that  this  was  a  time  of  apathy  and 
moral  sterility,  a  time  abandoned  to  the  disorderly  strugg  e  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  32J 

material  forces,  in  which  intellect  was  without  development 
and  without  power. 

It  was  not  so.  Doubtless  nothing  remains  belonging  to  this 
age,  either  of  philosophy,  poetry,  or  literature,  properly  speak- 
ing ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  there  was  no  intellectual  ac- 
tivity. It  was  in  an  eminent  degree  otherwise  ;  only  it  was 
not  produced  under  the  same  forms  as  at  other  epochs  ;  it  did 
not  lead  to  the  same  results.  It  was  an  activity  entirely  of 
application,  of  circumstance,  which  did  not  address  itself  to 
the  future,  which  had  no  design  to  bequeath  literary  monu- 
ments to  it,  calculated  to  charm  or  to  instruct ;  the  present, 
its  wants,  its  destinies,  contemporaneous  interests  and  life, 
that  was  the  circle  to  which  it  confined  itself,  wherein  the 
literature  of  this  epoch  spent  itself.  It  produced  few  books, 
and  yet  it  was  fertile  and  powerful  over  minds. 

One  is  therefore  highly  astonished  when,  after  having  heard 
it  said,  and  having  oneself  thought  that  this  time  was  sterile 
and  without  intellectual  activity,  we  find  in  it,  upon  looking 
nearer,  a  world,  as  it  were,  of  writings,  not  very  considerable, 
it  is  true,  and  often  little  remarkable,  but  which,  from  their 
number  and  the  ardor  which  reigns  in  them,  attest  a  rare 
movement  of  mind  and  fertility.  They  are  sermons,  instruc- 
tions, exhortations,  homilies,  and  conferences  upon  religious 
matters.  Never  has  any  political  revolution,  never  has  the 
liberty  of  the  press,  produced  more  pamphlets.  Three- 
fourths,  nay,  perhaps  ninety-nine  in  a  hundred,  of  these  little 
works  have  been  lost :  destined  to  act  at  the  very  moment, 
almost  all  improvised,  rarely  collected  by  their  authors  or  by 
others,  tney  have  not  come  down  to  us  ;  and  yet  an  immense 
number  remains  to  us  ;  they  form  a  true  and  rich  literature. 

The  sermons,  homilies,  instructions,  &c,  of  this  epoch,  may 
be  ranged  under  four  classes.  The  one  class  consists  of  ex- 
planations, of  commentaries  upon  the  Scriptures.  A  passionate 
interest  was  attached  to  these  monuments  of  the  common  faith; 
men  saw  everywhere  among  them  purposes,  allusions,  lessons, 
examples ;  they  sought  in  them  hidden  meanings,  moral 
meanings,  will  or  allegory.  The  most  elevated,  the  most 
subtle  mind  incessantly  found  there  something  to  exercise 
itself  upon ;  and  the  people  received  with  avidity  these  ap 
plications  of  books,  which  had  all  their  respect,  the  actual 
interests  of  their  conduct  and  life. 

The  sermons  of  the  second  class  relate  to  the  primitive  his- 
tory of  Christianity,  to  the  festivals  and  solemnities  which 


323  HISTORY   OF 

celebrate  its  great  events,  such  as  the  birth  of  Jesus  Christ, 
his  passion,  his  resurrection,  &c. 

The  third  class  comprehends  sermons  for  the  festivals  of  the 
saints  and  martyrs  ;  a  kind  of  religious  panegyrics,  sometimes 
purely  historical,  sometimes  turned  into  moral  exhortations. 

Finally,  the  fourth  class  is  that  of  the  sermons  destined  to 
apply  religious  doctrines  to  the  practice  of  life  ;  that  is  to  say, 
sermons  upon  religious  morality. 

I  have  no  intention  to  detain  you  long  upon  this  literature. 
To  really  understand  it,  to  estimate  the  degree  of  develop- 
ment taken  by  the  human  mind,  and  to  appreciate  the  influ- 
ence which  it  has  exercised  over  mankind,  a  lengthened 
study  is  necessary,  often  tedious,  although  full  of  results. 
The  number  of  these  compositions  passes  all  conception  :  of 
Saint  Augustin  alone  there  remain  three  hundred  and  ninety- 
four  sermons ;  and  he  preached  many  others,  of  which  we 
only  have  fragments,  and  again  many  others  which  are  en- 
tirely lost.  I  shall  confine  myself  to  the  selecting  two  of  the 
men  who  may  be  considered  as  the  most  faithful  representa- 
tives of  this  epoch,  and  to  the  placing  before  you  some  frag- 
ments of  their  eloquence. 

There  were  two  classes  of  preachers — the  bishops  and  the 
missionaries.  The  bishops  in  their  cathedral  town,  where 
they  almost  constantly  resided,  preached  several  times  a  week, 
some  even  every  day.  The  missionaries,  who  were  chiefly 
monks,  perambulating  the  country,  preaching  both  in  churches 
and  in  public  places,  in  the  midst  of  the  assembled  people. 

The  most  illustrious  of  the  bishops  of  the  epoch  which 
occupies  us  was  Saint  Cesaire,  bishop  of  Aries ;  the  most  illus- 
trious of  the  missionaries  was  Saint  Colomban,  abbot  of 
Luxeuil.  I  will  endeavor  to  give  you  an  idea  of  their  life 
and  preaching. 

Saint  Cesaire  was  born  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  in 
470,  at  Chalons-sur-Sa6ne,  of  a  considerable  family,  and  al- 
ready celebrated  for  its  piety.  In  his  infancy,  his  tenden- 
cies, both  intellectual  and  religious,  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  bishop  of  Chalons,  Saint  Silvestre,  who  tonsured  him  in 
488,  and  devoted  him  to  an  ecclesiastical  life.  He  made  his 
first  appearance  in  the  abbey  of  Lerens,  where  he  passed 
many  years,  abandoning  himself  to  great  austerities,  and  often 
charged  with  preaching  and  teaching  in  the  interior  of  the 
monastery.  His  health  suffered  from  it ;  the  abbot  of  Lerens 
sent  him  to  Aries  to  get  re-established,  and  in  501,  amid  tho 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  323 

unanimous  acclamations  of  the  people,  he  became  bishop  of 
that  place. 

He  occupied  the  see  of  Aries  for  forty-one  years,  from  501 
to  542,  during  the  whole  of  which  period  he  was  one  of  the 
most  illustrious  and  influential  of  the  bishops  of  southern  Gaul. 
He  presided  at,  and  directed  the  principal  councils  of  this 
epoch,  the  councils  of  Agde  in  506,  of  Aries  in  524,  of  Car- 
pentras  in  527,  of  Orange  in  529,  all  the  councils  in  which 
the  great  questions  concerning  the  doctrine  and  discipline 
of  the  time  were  treated  of,  among  others,  that  of  semi-Pela- 
gianism.  It  appears  even  that  his  activity  was  no  stranger 
to  politics.  He  was  twice  exiled  from  his  diocese  ;  in  505, 
by  Alaric,  king  of  the  Visigoths,  and  in  513,  by  Theodoric, 
king  of  the  Ostrogoths,  because,  they  said,  he  wished  to 
abandon  Provence,  and  especially  the  city  of  Aries,  to  the 
king  of  the  Burgundians,  under  whose  empire  he  was  born. 
Whether  the  accusation  was  or  was  not  well  founded,  Saint 
Cesaire  was  quickly  restored  to  his  diocese,  which  passionately 
recalled  him. 

His  preaching  there  was  powerful,  and  one  of  the  principal 
sources  of  his  celebrity.  About  a  hundred  and  thirty  of  his 
sermons  have  reached  us,  a  number  far  inferior  to  that  which 
he  preached.  They  may  be  distributed  into  the  four  classes 
which  I  have  just  pointed  out ;  and,  by  a  circumstance  which 
reflects  honor  on  Saint  Cesaire,  the  sermons  on  doctrine  or 
religious  morality  are  more  numerous  than  mystical  allegories, 
or  panegyrics  of  the  saints.  It  is  from  among  the  former  that 
I  shall  take  some  passages  calculated  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  this  kind  of  literature  and  eloquence.1 

In  a  sermon,  entitled  Advice  to  the  faithful  that  they  read 
the  divine  writings  Saint  Cesaire  urges  them  not  to  devote 
themselves  exclusively  to  their  temporal  affairs,  to  watch  their 
souls,  to  be  occupied  solicitously  with  them. 

"  The  care  of  our  soul,  my  dear  brothers,"  says  he,  "strongly 
resembles  the  cultivation  of  the  earth  :  as  in  the  earth,  we  pluck 
up  some  things  in  order  to  sow  others  which  shall  be  good,  so 
should  it  be  for  our  soul ;  what  is  evil  should  be  rooted  up, 
what  is  good  shouil  be  planted ;  let  pride  be  plucked  away, 


1  The  greater  part  of  the  sermons  of  Saint  Cesaire  were  inserted  in 
the  appendix  to  the  sermons  of  Saint  Augustin,  at  the  end  of  vol.  v  of 
his  works,  fol.  1683. 


324  HISTORY    OF 

and  humility  take  its  place  j  let  avarice  be  rejected,  and 
mercy  cultivated.  ...  No  one  can  plant  good  things  in  his 
ground,  until  he  has  cleared  it  of  evil  things ;  accordingly 
thou  canst  not  plant  the  holy  germs  of  virtue  in  thy  soul,  un- 
less thou  first  pluck  out  the  thorns  and  thistles  of  vice.  Tell 
me,  I  pray  thee,  thou  who  saidst  even  now  that  thou  coulds* 
not  accomplish  the  commandments  of  God  because  thou  canst 
not  read,  tell  me,  who  has  taught  thee  to  dress  thy  vine,  at 
what  time  to  plant  a  new  one  ?  who  has  taught  it  thee  ? 
Hast  thou  read  it,  or  hast  thou  heard  speak  of  it,  or  hast  thou 
asked  it  of  able  cultivators  ?  Since  thou  art  so  occupied  w.;th 
thy  vine,  why  art  thou  not  so  with  thy  soul  ?  Give  heed,  my 
brother,  I  pray  you,  there  are  too  kinds  of  fields,  one  of  God, 
the  other  of  man  ;  the  domain  of  God  is  thy  soul ;  is  it,  then, 
just  to  cultivate  thy  domain,  and  to  neglect  that  of  God  ? 
When  thou  seest  the  earth  in  a  good  state  thou  rejoicest ; 
wherefore,  then,  dost  thou  not  weep  at  seeing  thy  soul  lie  fal- 
low ?  We  have  but  few  days  to  live  in  this  world  upon  the 
fruits  of  our  earth ;  let  us  turn,  therefore,  our  greatest  atten- 
tion towards  our  souls.  ...  let  us  labor  with  all  our  power, 
with  the  aid  of  God,  to  the  end  that  when  he  shall  come  to  his 
field,  which  is  our  soul,  he  may  find  it  cultivated,  arranged  in 
good  order ;  let  him  find  crops,  not  thorns  j  wine,  not  vinegar, 
and  more  wheat  than  tares."1 

Comparisons  borrowed  from  common  life,  familiar  anti- 
theses, singularly  strike  the  imagination  of  the  people  ;  and 
Saint  Cesaire  makes  great  use  of  them.  He  recommends  the 
faithful  to  conduct  themselves  properly  at  church,  to  avoid  all 
distraction,  to  pray  with  attention : — 

"  Although  in  many  respects,  my  dear  brothers,"  says  he, 
"  we  have  often  to  rejoice  at  your  progress  in  the  way  of  sal- 
vation, still  there  are  some  things  of  which  we  must  caution 
you,  and  I  pray  you  to  receive  our  observations  willingly, 
according  to  your  custom.  I  rejoice,  and  I  return  thanks  to 
God  ;  for  that  I  see  you  flock  faithfully  to  the  church  to  hear 
the  divine  lectures ;  but  if  you  wish  to  complete  your  success 
and  our  joy,  come  here  earlier :  you  see  tailors,  goldsmiths, 
blacksmiths,  rise  early  in  order  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  the 
body ;  and  we,  we  cannot  go  before  day  to  church  to  solicit 
pardon  for  our  sins.  .  .  .  Come  then,  at  an  early  hour,  I  pray 


1  S.  Aug.  Op  ,  vol.  v.,  col.  509,  510. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  325 

you ;  and  once  arrived,  try,  with  the  aid  of  God,  to  preven' 
any  foreign  thought  from  gliding  amidst  our  prayers,  for  fear 
of  our  having  one  thing  upon  our  lips,  and  another  in  our 
hearts,  and  that  while  our  language  is  addressed  to  God,  our 
minds  go  astray  upon  all  sorts  of  subjects.  ...  If  thou  wished 
to  urge  any  affair  important  to  thyself  with  some  powerful 
man,  and  suddenly  turning  thyself  from  him,  and  interrupt, 
ing  the  conversation,  thou  wert  to  occupy  thyself  with  all 
sorts  of  trifles,  what  an  insult  wouldst  thou  not  be  guilty  of 
towards  him  ?  what  would  his  anger  not  be  towards  thee  ?  If, 
then,  when  we  are  occupied  with  a  man,  we  employ  all  our 
care  not  to  think  of  anything  else  for  fear  of  offending  him, 
ought  we  not  to  be  ashamed,  when  we  are  occupied  with  God 
in  prayer,  when  we  have  to  defend  ourselves  to  his  Holy 
Majesty  for  miserable  sins,  should  we  not  be  ashamed  to  allow 
our  mind  to  wander  here  and  there,  and  to  turn  from  his 
divine  countenance  ?  Every  man,  my  brothers,  takes  for  his 
God  that  which  absorbs  his  thought  at  the  moment  of  prayer, 
and  seems  to  adore  it  as  his  Lord.  .  .  .  This  one,  while  pray- 
ing, thinks  of  the  public  place — it  is  the  public  place  that  he 
adores ;  another  has  before  his  eyes  the  house  which  he  is 
constructing  or  repairing ;  he  adores  what  he  has  before  his 
eyes;  another  thinks  of  his  vine,  another  of  his  garden.  .  .  . 
What  will  it  be  if  the  thought  which  occupies  be  an  ill 
thought,  an  illegitimate  thought  ?  if,  in  the  midst  of  our 
prayers,  we  allow  our  mind  to  run  upon  cupidity,  rage,  hate, 
luxury,  adultery  ?  .  .  .  I  implore  you,  therefore,  my  cherished 
brothers,  if  you  wish  entirely  to  avoid  these  distractions  of 
the  soul,  let  us  endeavor,  with  the  aid  of  God,  not  to  yield  to 
them."1 

Even  in  treating  of  the  most  elevated  subjects,  in  addressing 
the  gravest  counsel  to  his  people,  the  tone  of  St.  Cesaire's 
preaching  is  always  simple,  practical,  foreign  to  all  literary 
pretension,  only  destined  to  act  upon  the  soul  of  his  auditors. 
He  wishes  to  Axcite  in  them  that  ardor  for  good  works,  thai 
active  zeal,  which  incessantly  pursues  good. 

"  Many  people,  my  dear  brothers,"  says  he,  "  think  thai 
it  is  sufficient  for  eternal  life,  if  they  have  done  no  evil ;  if, 
perchance,  any  one  has  deceived  himself  by  this  false  tran. 
quillity,  let  him  know,  positively,  that  it  is  not  sufficient  for  a 


1  S.  Aug.  Op.,  vol.  v.,  col.  471—473. 
8 


326  HISTORY   OP 

Christian  merely  to  have  avoided  evil,  if  he  has  not  accom. 
plished,  as  far  as  in  him  lies,  things  which  are  good  ;  for  He 
who  said,  Depart  from  evil, — also  said  to  us,  Do  good. 

"  He  who  thinks  that  it  is  sufficient  not  to  have  done  evil, 
although  he  has  done  no  good,  let  him  tell  me  if  he  would 
desire  from  his  servant  what  he  does  to  his  Lord.  Is  there 
any  one  who  would  wish  that  his  servant  should  do  neither 
good  nor  evil  ?  We  all  require  that  our  servants  should  not 
only  not  do  the  evil  which  we  interdict  them,  but  that  they 
should  acquit  themselves  of  the  labors  that  we  impose  upon 
them.  Thy  servant  would  be  more  seriously  guilty  if  he 
should  rob  thee  of  thy  cattle,  but  he  would  not  be  exempt  from 
fault  if  he  neglected  to  guard  it.  It  is  not  just  that  we  should 
be  towards  God  as  we  would  not  wish  our  servants  to  be  to- 
wards us.  .  .  . 

"  Those  who  think  that  it  is  sufficient  that  they  do  no  evil, 
are  accustomed  to  say :  '  May  it  please  God  that  I  should 
merit  being  found,  at  the  hour  of  death,  the  same  as  when  I 
left  the  sacrament  of  baptism.'  Doubtless,  it  is  good  for 
each  to  be  found  free  from  faults  at  the  day  of  judgment,  but 
it  is  a  grave  one  not  to  have  progressed  in  good.  To  him 
alone  who  left  the  world  as  soon  as  he  received  baptism,  may 
it  suffice  to  be  the  same  as  when  leaving  baptism ;  he  had  not 
time  to  exercise  good  works ;  but  he  who  has  had  time  to  live, 
and  is  arrived  at  the  age  to  do  good,  it  will  not  suffice  him  to 
be  exempt  from  faults,  if  he  wishes  also  to  be  exempt  from 
good  works.  I  wish  that  he  who  desires  to  be  found  the  same 
at  death  as  he  was  when  he  received  the  sacrament  of  bap- 
tism would  tell  me,  if,  when  he  plants  a  new  vine,  he  wishes 
that  at  the  end  of  ten  years  it  should  be  the  same  as  the  day 
when  he  planted  it.  If  he  grafts  an  olive  plant,  would  it  suit 
him  that  it  should  be  the  same  after  many  years  as  on  the  day 
when  he  grafted  it  ?  If  a  son  be  born  to  him,  let  him  consi- 
der whether  he  would  wish,  that  after  five  years  he  should  be 
of  the  same  age  and  the  same  size  as  at  the  day  of  his  birth. 
Since,  then,  there  is  no  one  to  whom  this  would-be  agreeable 
for  the  things  which  belong  to  him,  in  the  same  way  that  he 
would  be  sorrowful  if  his  vine,  his  olive  plant,  or  his  son, 
should  make  no  progress,  so  let  him  sorrow  if  he  find  that  he 
himself  has  made  no  progress  from  the  moment  he  was  born 
m  Christ."1 

1  S.  Aug.  Op.,  vol.  v.,  col.  431,  432. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  327 

And  elsewhere  in  a  sermon  upon  charity : — 

"  It  is  not  without  reason,  you  must  suppose,  that  I  so  often 
discourse  with  you  upon  truth  and  perfect  charity.  I  do  it 
because  I  know  no  remedy  so  wholesome,  or  so  efficacious  for 
the  wounds  of  sin.  Let  us  add  that,  however  powerful  may 
be  this  remedy,  there  is  no  one  who  may  not  procure  it,  with 
the  aid  of  God.  For  other  good  works  omitted,  one  may  find 
some  excuse ;  there  is  none  for  omitting  the  duty  of  charity. 
One  may  say  to  me,  •  1  cannot  fast ;'  '  I  cannot  love.'  They 
may  say,  '  From  the  weakness  of  my  body,  I  cannot  abstain 
from  meat  and  wine  ;'  but  who  can  say  to  me,  '  I  cannot  love 
my  enemies,  nor  pardon  those  who  have  offended  me  V  Let 
no  one  deceive  himself,  for  no  one  can  deceive  God.  .  .  . 
There  are  many  things  which  we  cannot  draw  from  our  gra- 
nary or  our  cellar,  but  it  would  be  disgraceful  to  say  that  there 
is  something  which  we  cannot  draw  from  the  treasure  of  our 
heart ;  for  here  our  feet  have  not  to  run,  our  eyes  to  look,  our 
ears  to  listen,  nor  our  hands  to  work.  We  can  allege  no  fa- 
tigue as  an  excuse  j  men  do  not  say  to  us :  '  Go  to  the  east  to 
seek  charity  ;  sail  to  the  east,  and  thence  bring  back  affection.' 
It  is  into  ourselves  and  into  our  hearts  that  they  order  us  to 
enter ;  it  is  there  that  we  shall  find  everything.  .  . 

"  But,  says  some  one,  I  cannot,  in  any  way,  love  my  ene- 
mies. God  tells  thee  in  the  scriptures  that  thou  canst ;  and 
thou  answerest  that  thou  canst  not.  Now,  look ;  should  we 
believe  God  or  thee  ?  .  .  How  then  ?  So  many  men,  so  many 
women,  so  many  children,  so  many  delicate  young  girls 
have  supported  with  a  firm  heart,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  the 
flames,  the  sword,  wild  beasts ;  and  we  cannot  support  the 
insults  of  some  foolish  persons  !  and  for  some  petty  ills  which 
the  wickedness  of  men  has  done  us,  we  pursue  against  then? 
to  their  death  the  vengeance  of  our  injuries.  Truly,  I  know 
not  with  what  face  and  with  what  conscience  we  dare  ask  tc 
share  eternal  beatitude  with  the  saints,  we  who  cannot  follow 
their  example  even  in  the  slightest  things."1 

This  is  not  devoid  of  energy ;  the  feeling  of  it  is  lively,  the 
mrns  picturesque ;  it  almost  amounts  to  eloquence. 

Here  is  a  passage  which  is  even  more  touching.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  the  sermon  from  which  I  borrow  it  is  by 
5aint  Cesaire.     It  contains  some  almost  verbal  imitations  from 


1  S.  Aug.  Op.,  vol.  v.,  col.  451, 452. 


328  HISTORY   OF 

the  eastern  fathers,  especially  Eusebius  and  Saint  Gregory  . 
but  this  matters  little ;  it  is  certainly  by  some  preacher  of  tha 
time,  and  characterizes  it  as  well  as  that  which  I  have  just 
cited.  It  was  preached  on  Easter-day  ;  it  celebrates  Christ's 
descent  into  hell,  and  his  resurrection : 

"  Behold,"  says  the  preacher,  "  you  have  heard  what  was 
done  of  his  own  free  will  by  our  Saviour,  the  Lord  of  Ven- 
geance. When,  like  a  conqueror,  burning  and  terrible,  he 
reached  the  countries  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  at  the  sight 
of  him  the  impious  legions  of  hell,  affrighted  and  trembling, 
began  to  ask  each  other,  saying: — "  What  is  this  terrible  figure 
resplendent  with  the  whiteness  of  snow  ?  Never  has  our 
Tartarus  received  his  like ;  never  has  the  world  cast  into  our 
caverns  any  one  resembling  him ;  this  is  an  invader,  not  a 
debtor ;  he  exacts,  he  does  not  ask ;  we  see  a  judge,  not  a  sup- 
pliant ;  he  comes  to  command,  not  to  succumb ;  to  take  away, 
not  to  remain.  Did  our  porters  sleep  when  this  triumpher  at- 
tacked our  gates  ?  If  he  was  a  sinner,  he  would  not  be  so 
powerful ;  if  any  fault  sullied  him,  he  would  not  illuminate 
our  Tartarus  with  such  brilliancy.  If  he  is  God,  wherefore 
has  he  come  ?  if  he  is  man,  how  has  he  dared  ?  If  he  is 
God,  what  does  he  in  the  sepulchre  ?  if  he  is  man,  why  does 
he  deliver  sinners  ?  whence  comes  he,  so  dazzling,  so  power- 
ful, so  radiant,  so  terrible  ?  .  .  .  Who  is  he,  that  with  so  much 
intrepidity  he  oversteps  our  frontiers,  and  that  not  only  he 
does  not  bear  our  punishments,  but  that  he  delivers  others 
from  our  chains  ?  Should  not  this  be  he  by  whose  death  our 
prince  lately  said  we  should  gain  the  empire  over  the  whole 
universe  ?  But  if  this  be  he,  the  hope  of  our  prince  has  de- 
ceived him ;  where  he  thought  to  conquer,  he  has  been  con- 
quered and  thrown  down.  O,  our  prince,  what  hast  thou 
done,  what  hast  thou  wished  to  do  ?  Behold  him  who,  by  his 
splendor,  has  dissipated  thy  darkness;  he  has  overthrown 
thy  dungeons,  broken  thy  chains,  delivered  thy  captives,  and 
changed  their  sorrow  into  joy.  Behold  those  who  were  ac. 
customed  to  groan  under  our  torments  insult  us  because  of 
the  salvation  which  they  have  received;  and  not  only  do 
they  not  fear  us,  but  they  even  menace  us.  Have  any  seen 
hitherto  the  dead  become  proud,  the  captives  rejoice  ?  Why 
hast  thou  desired  to  lead  hither  him  whose  coming  has  called 
back  joy  to  those  who  late  were  in  despair  ?  We  no  longer 
hear  their  accustomed  cries,  none  of  their  groans  resound.' " 

1  S.  Aug.  Op.,  vol.  v.,  col.  283,  284. 


CIVILIZATION    II        RANCE.  320 

Surely,  even  were  you  to  find  such  a  passage  in  Paradise 
Lost,  you  would  not  be  astonished,  for  this  discourse  is  not  un- 
worthy of  the  hell  of  Milton. 

It  is  not,  however  (and  this  is  a  good  reason  for  not  attribut- 
ing it  to  him),  in  the  general  tone  of  the  preaching  of  Saint 
Cesaire.  This  is  in  general  more  simple,  less  ardent ;  it  ad- 
dresses itself  to  the  common  incidents  of  life,  to  the  natural 
feelings  of  the  soul.  There  reigns  in  it  a  mild  kindness  to- 
wards a  genuine  intimacy  with  the  population  to  whom  the 
preacher  addresses  himself;  he  not  only  speaks  a  language 
suited  to  his  auditors,  the  language  which  he  believes  best 
calculated  to  act  upon  them ;  but  he  pays  attention  to  the  ef- 
fect of  his  words ;  he  wishes  to  take  from  them  anything 
which  they  may  possess  likely  to  wound, — all  bitterness ;  he 
in  a  manner  claims  indulgence  for  his  severity. 

"  When  I  make  those  reflections,  I  fear  that  some  will  rather 
be  irritated  against  us  than  against  themselves ;  our  discourse 
is  offered  to  your  charity  as  a  mirror ;  and  as  a  matron,  when 
she  regards  herself  in  her  mirror,  corrects  what  she  sees  de- 
fective in  her  person,  and  does  not  break  the  mirror ;  so, 
when  any  one  shall  recognize  his  deformity  in  a  discourse,  it 
is  just  that  he  should  rather  correct  himself  than  be  irritated 
against  the  preacher  as  against  a  mirror.  Those  who  receive 
a  wound  are  more  disposed  to  nurse  it  than  to  irritate  them- 
selves against  the  remedies ;  let  no  persons  irritate  them- 
selves against  spiritual  remedies  ;  let  each  receive,  not  only  pa- 
tiently, but  with  a  good  heart,  what  is  said  to  him  with  a  good 
heart.  It  is  well  known  that  he  who  receives  in  a  good  spirit 
a  salutary  correction,  already  avoids  evil ;  he  who  is  dis- 
pleased with  his  faults,  begins  to  have  an  inclination  for  what 
is  good,  and  in  proportion  as  he  departs  from  vice,  he  approach- 
es virtue."1 

He  pushes  his  solicitude  so  far  as  to  desire  that  his  audi- 
tors should  interrogate  him,  and  enter  into  conversation  with 
him. 

"  It  was  a  cause  of  great  joy  to  him,"  say  his  biographers, 
"  when  men  induced  him  to  explain  any  obscure  point ;  and 
he  himself  frequently  excited  us  to  it,  by  saying  to  us — *  I 
know  that  you  do  not  understand  all  that  we  say  ;  why  do 
you  not  interrogate  us,  to  the  end  that  you  may  be  able  tc 
comprehend  ?     The  cows  do  not  always  run  to  the  calves— 


1  S.  Aug.  Op.,  vol.  v.,  col.  480. 


330  HISTORY   OF 

often,  even  the  calves  run  to  the  cows,  that  they  may  appease 
their  hunger  at  the  dugs  of  their  mother.  You  should  act  in 
precisely  the  same  manner,  so  that  by  interrogating  us,  you 
may  seek  the  means  of  extracting  the  spiritual  honey  for 
yourselves.'  "l 

One  can  scarcely  suppose  but  that  such  language  would 
exercise  great  influence  over  the  mass  of  the  people  ;  that  of 
Saint  Cesaire  was  great  indeed,  and  everything  attests  that 
few  bishops  possessed  the  soul  of  their  auditors  as  he  did. 

I  pass  to  a  preaching  of  another  kind,  less  regular,  less 
wise,  but  not  less  powerful — to  that  of  the  missionaries.  I 
have  named  Saint  Colomban  as  the  type  of  this  class  of  men. 
He  was  born  in  540,  not  in  Gaul,  but  in  Ireland,  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Leinster ;  he  prosecuted  his  ecclesiastical  studies, 
and  became  a  monk  in  the  monastery  of  Benchor,  situated  in 
the  North  of  Ireland,  in  Ulster.  What  he  had  to  do  as  a 
common  monk,  and  in  Ireland,  did  not  satisfy  his  activity ; 
and  in  585,  already  forty-five  years  of  age,  he  passed  into 
France  with  twelve  monks  of  his  monastery,  with  the  sole 
aim  of  visiting  it  and  preaching  there.  He  preached,  indeed, 
while  travelling  from  west  to  east,  with  enormous  success, 
attracting  everywhere  the  concourse  of  the  people,  and  the 
attention  of  the  great.  A  short  t-ime  after  his  arrival  in  Bur- 
gundy, the  king,  Gontran,  implored  him  to  remain  there.  He 
established  himself  amidst  the  mountains  of  Vosges,  and  there 
founded  a  monastery.  At  the  end  of  a  very  short  period,  in 
590,  the  increasing  number  of  his  disciples,  and  the  affluence 
of  people,  obliged  him  to  seek  a  more  extensive  and  more  ac- 
cessible place  ;  he  descended  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains, 
and  there  founded  the  monastery  of  Luxeuil,  which  soon  be- 
came very  considerable.  The  successes  of  Saint  Colomban 
were  less  peaceable  than  that  of  Saint  Cesaire — they  were 
accompanied  by  resistance  and  trouble  ;  he  preached  the 
reformation  of  manners,  the  zeal  of  faith,  without  caring  for 
any  consideration  or  circumstance,  falling  out  with  princes, 
with  bishops,  casting  the  divine  fire  on  all  sides,  without 
troubling  himself  about  the  conflagration.  Accordingly,  his 
influence,  which  he  exercised  with  a  good  intention,  was  un- 
certain, unequal,  and  incessantly  disturbed.     In  602,  he  got 


»  Vita  S  Ccesarii,  c  30 ;  dans  les  Acta  sanct.  ord.  S.  Bened.,  vol 
L»  p.  667. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  83. 

into  a  quarrel  with  the  neighboring  bishops,  about  the  day  of 
the  celebration  of  Easter,  and  not  choosing  to  yield  anything 
o  the  local  customs,  he  made  enemies  of  them.  About  609, 
a  violent  storm  was  raised  against  him  at  the  court  of  the 
King  of  Burgundy,  Theodoric  II.,  and,  with  his  accustomed 
energy,  he  preferred  to  abandon  his  monastery  rather  than 
yield  for  an  instant.  Fredegaire  has  accurately  preserved 
the  account  of  this  contest ;  I  will  read  it  entire :  the  cha- 
racter and  the  situation  of  the  missionary  are  strongly  shown 
in  it: — 

"  The  fourth  year  of  the  reign  of  Theodoric,  the  reputa- 
tion of  Saint  Colomban  increased  in  the  cities  and  in  all  the 
provinces  of  Gaul  and  Germany.  He  was  so  much  celebrated 
and  venerated  by  all,  that  king  Theodoric  often  visited  him 
at  Luxeuil,  to  ask  with  humility  the  favor  of  his  prayers.  As 
he  went  there  very  often,  the  man  of  God  began  to  rebuke 
him,  asking  him  why  he  gave  himself  up  to  adultery  with 
concubines,  rather  than  enjoying  the  sweetness  of  a  legiti- 
mate marriage,  so  that  the  royal  race  might  proceed  from  an 
honorable  queen,  and  not  from  an  evil  place.  As  already  the 
king  obeyed  the  word  of  the  man  of  God,  and  promised  to 
abstain  from  all  illicit  things,  the  old  serpent  glided  into  the 
soul  of  his  grandmother  Brunehault,  who  was  a  second  Jeze- 
bel, and  excited  her  against  the  saint  of  God  with  the  sting 
of  pride.  Seeing  Theodoric  obey  the  man  of  God,  she  feared 
that  if  her  son,  slighting  the  concubines,  put  a  queen  at  the 
head  of  the  court,  she  would  see  herself,  by  this  event,  re- 
trenched of  a  part  of  her  dignity  and  honors.  It  happened 
one  day  that  Colomban  visited  the  court  of  Brunehault,  which 
was  then  in  the  domain  of  Bourcheresse.1  The  queen  hav- 
ing seen  him  enter  the  court,  led  to  him  the  sons  that  Theo- 
doric had  had  by  his  adulteries.  Having  looked  at  them,  the 
saint  asked  what  they  wanted  with  him.  Brunehault  said  to 
him — •  These  are  the  sons  of  the  king — give  them  the  favor 
of  thy  benediction.'  Colomban  said  to  her — '  Know  that 
they  will  never  bear  the  royal  sceptre,  for  they  have  come 
from  an  ill  place.'  She,  in  a  fury,  ordered  the  children  to 
retire.  The  man  of  God  having  left  the  court  of  the  queen, 
at  the  moment  that  he  passed  the  threshold  a  terrible  noise 
from  above  was  heard,  but  did  not  repress  the  fury  of  this 


1  Between  Ch&lons  and  Autun. 


332  HISTORY    OF 

miserable  woman,  who  prepared  to  set  snares  for  him.  .  .  , 
Colomban,  seeing  the  royal  anger  raised  against  him,  promptly 
repaired  to  the  court,  to  repress  by  his  admonitions  this  un- 
worthy rancor.  The  king  was  then  at  Epoisse,  his  country 
house.  Colomban  arrived  as  the  sun  went  down ;  they  an- 
nounced to  the  king  that  the  man  of  God  was  there,  and  that 
he  was  not  willing  to  enter  into  the  house  of  the  king.  Then 
Theodoric  said,  that  he  had  rather  properly  honor  the  man  of 
God  than  provoke  the  anger  of  the  Lord  by  offending  one  cf 
his  servants;  he  therefore  ordered  his  people  to  prepare 
everything  with  royal  pomp,  and  to  go  to  the  servant  of  God. 
They  ran,  therefore,  and  according  to  the  order  of  the  king 
offered  their  presents.  Colomban,  seeing  that  they  presented 
him  dishes  and  cups  with  royal  splendor,  asked  what  they 
wanted.  They  said  to  him — •  This  is  what  the  king  sends 
thee.'  But,  driving  them  back  with  malediction,  he  answered 
—'It  is  written,  the  Most  High  rejecteth  the  gifts  of  the 
wicked ;  it  is  not  fit  that  the  lips  of  the  servants  of  God 
should  be  soiled  with  his  meat — of  his  who  interdicts  their 
entry,  not  only  into  his  dwelling,  but  that  of  others.'  At 
these  words,  the  vases  fell  to  pieces,  the  wine  and  the  beer 
ran  over  the  ground,  and  everything  was  scattered  about. 
Some  servants,  terrified,  went  to  tell  the  king  what  had  hap- 
pened. He,  seized  with  fright,  repaired  at  break  of  day  with 
his  grandmother  to  the  man  of  God  ;  they  implored  him  to 
pardon  them  for  what  they  had  done,  and  promised  to  correct 
themselves  in  future.  Colomban  was  appeased,  and  returned 
to  the  monastery.  But  they  did  not  long  observe  their  pro- 
mises ;  their  miserable  sins  recommenced,  and  the  king  gave 
himself  up  to  his  usual  adulteries.  At  the  news  of  this,  Co- 
lomban sent  him  a  letter  full  of  reproaches,  menacing  him 
with  excommunication  if  he  would  not  correct  himself. 
Brunehault,  again  enraged,  excited  the  mind  of  the  king 
against  Colomban,  and  strove  to  deprive  him  of  all  his  power  ; 
she  prayed  all  the  lords  and  great  men  of  the  court  to  animate 
the  king  against  the  man  of  God ;  she  also  dared  to  solicit  the 
bishops,  in  order  that  they  might  raise  suspicions  concerning 
his  religion,  and  blame  the  rule  which  he  imposed  upon  his 
monks.  The  courtiers,  obeying  the  discourse  of  this  misera- 
ble queen,  excited  the  mind  of  the  king  against  the  saint  of 
God,  and  persuaded  him  to  cause  him  to  come  and  prove  his 
religion.  The  king  hurried  away,  sought  the  man  of  God  at 
Luxeuil,  and  asked  him  why  he  deviated  from  the  customs 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  333 

of  other  bishops,  and  also  wny  the  interior  of  the  monastery 
was  not  open  to  all  Christians.  Colomban,  with  a  haughty 
soul  and  full  of  courage,  answered  the  king  that  it  was  not 
customary  to  open  the  entrance  of  the  dwelling-place  of  the 
servants  of  God  to  secular  men  and  strangers  to  religion,  but 
that  he  had  places  prepared  and  destined  to  receive  all  guests. 
The  king  said  to  him — 'If  thou  desire  to  acquire  the  gifts  of 
our  bounty  and  the  help  of  our  protection,  thou  must  allow 
every  one  to  enter  into  all  parts  of  thy  monastery.'  The 
man  of  God  answered — '  If  thou  wouldst  violate  what  has 
hitherto  been  subject  to  the  rigor  of  our  rules,  and  if  thou  art 
come  here  to  destroy  the  retreats  of  the  servants  of  God,  and 
overthrow  the  rules  of  discipline,  know  that  thy  empire  shall 
crumble  to  the  ground,  and  that  thou  shalt  perish  with  all  thy 
royal  race  ;'  which  the  event  afterwards  confirmed.  Already, 
with  a  rash  step,  the  king  had  penetrated  into  the  refectory  ; 
terrified  at  these  words,  he  quickly  returned.  He  was  then 
assailed  with  the  warm  reproaches  of  the  man  of  God,  to 
whom  Theodoric  said  :  '  Thou  hopest  I  shall  give  thee  the 
crown  of  a  martyr ;  know  that  I  am  not  sufficiently  foolish 
to  commit  so  great  a  crime.  Return  to  a  view  of  things 
which  will  be  far  more  profitable  for  thee,  and  let  him  who 
has  renounced  the  manners  of  secular  men  resume  the  path 
he  has  quitted.'  The  courtiers  all  cried,  with  one  voice,  that 
they  could  not  tolerate  in  that  place  a  man  who  would  not 
associate  with  all.  But  Colomban  said  that  he  would  not  go 
beyond  the  boundary  of  the  monastery,  unless  taken  away 
by  force.  The  king  then  departed,  leaving  a  certain  lord 
named  Bandulf,  who  immediately  drove  the  saint  of  God 
from  the  monaste-*y,  and  conducted  him  in  exile  to  the  town 
of  Besancjon,  until  the  king  should  decide  upon  the  sentence 
which  it  might  please  him  to  pass." 

The  struggle  was  prolonged  for  some  time  ;  the  missionary 
was  finally  obliged  to  quit  Burgundy.  Theodoric  had  him 
conducted  to  Nantes,  where  he  attempted  to  embark  in  order 
to  return  to  Ireland  ;  an  unknown  circumstance,  of  which  his 
biographers  have  made  a  miracle,  prevented  him  crossing  the 
sea ;  he  resumed  the  route  of  the  countries  of  the  east,  and 
established  himself  in  the  states  of  Teodebert,  brother  of 
Theodoric,  in  Switzerland,  on  the  borders  of  the  lake  of  Zu- 
rich ;  then  on  the  lake  of  Constance,  and  finally  on  the  lake 
of  Geneva.  New  troubles  drove  him  from  this  abode  ;  he 
passed  into  Italy,  and  there  founded,  in  612,  the  monastery 

29 


334  HISTORY   OF 

of  Bobbio,  where  he  died  on  the  21st  of  November,  615,  an 
object  of  veneration  to  all  the  people  among  whom  he  had 
brought  his  tempestuous  activity. 

It  is  shown  in  his  eloquence  :  few  monuments  of  it  remain 
to  us  j  such  preaching  was  far  more  improvised,  far  more 
fugitive,  than  that  of  a  bishop.  Belonging  to  Saint  Colomban 
we  have  only  the  rule  which  he  instituted  for  his  monastery, 
some  letters,  some  poetical  fragments,  and  sixteen  Directions, 
which  are  really  sermons,  preached  either  during  some 
mission,  or  in  the  interior  of  his  monastery.  The  character  of 
them  is  entirely  different  from  that  of  the  sermons  of  Saint 
Cesaire ;  there  is  much  less  mind  and  reason  in  them ;  a  less 
fine  and  varied  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  the  different 
situations  of  life,  less  care  taken  to  model  the  religious  in- 
struction upon  the  wants  and  capacities  of  the  auditors.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  the  flights  of  imagination,  the  pious  trans- 
ports, the  rigorous  application  of  principles,  the  warfare 
declared  against  all  vain  or  hypocritical  compromise,  give  to 
the  words  of  the  orator  that  passionate  authority  which  does  not 
always  and  surely  reform  the  soul  of  his  auditors,  but  which 
dominates  over  them,  and,  for  some  time  at  least,  sovereignly 
disposes  of  their  conduct  and  their  life.  I  shall  cite  but  one 
passage  from  them,  so  much  the  more  remarkable,  as  being 
what  one  would  least  expect  to  find  there.  It  was  the  age 
when  fasts,  mortifications,  austerities  of  all  kinds  were  multi- 
plied in  the  interior  of  monasteries,  and  Saint  Colomban 
recommends  them,  like  others ;  but,  in  the  sincerity  of  his 
enthusiasm,  he  soon  perceived  that  neither  sanctity  nor  faith 
existed  therein,  and  he  attacked  the  errors  of  the  monastical 
rigors,  in  the  same  way  that 'he  had  attacked  the  baseness  of 
worldly  effeminacy  : 

"  Do  not  suppose,"  says  he,  "  that  it  suffices  for  us  to 
fatigue  the  dust  of  our  body  with  fasts  and  vigils,  if  we  do 
not  also  reform  our  manners.  ...  To  mortify  the  flesh,  if  the 
soul  fructifies  not,  is  to  labor  incessantly  at  the  earth  withoul 
making  it  produce  any  harvest ;  it  is  to  construct  a  statue  of 
gold  outside,  and  of  mud  within.  To  what  purpose  were  it 
to  go  far  abroad  to  make  war,  if  the  interior  be  left  a  prey  to 
ruin  ?  What  would  be  said  of  the  man  who  should  dig  all 
round  his  vineyard  and  leave  it  inside  full  of  brambles  and 
bushes?. ...  A  religion  consisting  merely  of  gestures  and  move- 
ments of  the  body  is  vain ;  the  suffering  of  the  body  alone  is 
vain ;  the  care  which  a  man  takes  of  his  exterior  is  vain,  if 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  335 

he  does  not  also  watch  and  take  care  of  his  soul.  True 
piety  resides  in  the  humility,  not  of  the  body,  but  of  the 
heart.  To  what  purpose  are  those  combats,  which  are  fought 
with  the  passions  by  the  servant,  when  these  live  in  peace 
with  the  master  ?.,...  It  does  not  suffice  any  more  to  hear 

speak  of  the  virtues,  or  to  read  of  them Is  it  by  words 

alone  that  a  man  cleanses  his  house  of  filth  ?  Is  it  without 
labor  and  without  sweat  that  a  dahy  work  can  be  accomplish- 
ed ?  ...  .  Therefore  strengthen  yourself,  and  cease  not  to 
combat ;  no  one  obtains  the  crown,  unless  he  has  courageous- 
ly fought."1 

We  do  not  find  many  passages  in  the  Instructions  of  Saint 
Colomban,  so  simple  as  this.  The  transports  of  imagination 
are  there  always  mixed  with  subtlety  of  mind ;  still  the  founda- 
tion is  often  energetic  and  original. 

Compare  this  sacred  eloquence  of  the  sixth  century  with 
the  eloquence  of  the  modern, pulpit,  even  in  its  finest  period ; 
at  the  seventeenth  century,  for  example.  I  said  but  now 
that  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  the  characteristic  of 
literature  was  that  of  ceasing  to  be  literature,  that  it  had 
become  an  action,  a  power ;  that  in  writing,  in  speaking,  men 
only  concerned  themselves  with  positive  and  immediate  re- 
sults ;  that  they  sought  neither  science  nor  intellectual  plea- 
sures, and  that,  for  this  reason,  the  epoch  produced  scarcely 
anything  but  sermons,  or  works  analogous  to  them.  This  fact, 
which  is  shown  in  the  general  literature,  is  imprinted  on  the 
sermons  themselves.  Open  those  of  modern  times,  they  have 
evidently  a  character  more  literary  than  practical ;  the  orator 
aspires  far  more  to  beauty  of  language,  to  the  intellectual 
satisfaction  of  his  auditors,  than  to  influence  them  to  the  bot- 
tom of  their  souls,  to  produce  real  effects,  true  reformation, 
efficacious  conversion.  There  is  nothing  of  this  kind,  no- 
thing literary,  in  the  sermons  which  I  have  just  spoken  of; 
no  arlxiety  about  speaking  well,  about  artistically  combining 
images,  ideas  ;  the  orator  goes  to  the  facts  ;  he  desires  to  act : 
he  turns  and  returns  in  the  same  circle  ;  he  fears  not  repeti- 
tions, familiarity,  or  even  vulgarity  ;  he  speaks  briefly,  but  he 
begins  again  each  morning.  It  is  not  sacred  eloquence,  it  is 
religious  power. 

There  was  at  this  epoch  a  literature  which  has  not  been 


1  S.  Colomban.  but.  2,  Bibl.patr.,  vol.  xii.,  p.  10. 


336  HISTORY   OF 

remarkable,  a  veritable  literature,  essentially  disinterested, 
which  had  scarcely  any  other  end  in  view  but  that  of  pro* 
curing  intellectual,  moral  pleasure  to  the  public ;  I  mean  the 
lives  of  the  saints,  the  legends.  They  have  not  been  intro- 
duced into  the  literary  history  of  this  epoch  :  they  are,  how- 
ever, its  true,  its  only  literature,  for  they  are  the  only  works 
which  had  the  pleasures  of  the  imagination  for  their  object. 
4fter  the  battle  of  Troy,  almost  every  town  in  Greece  had 
poets  who  collected  the  traditions  and  adventures  of  the  he- 
roes, and  made  a  diversion  of  them  for  the  public,  a  national 
diversion.  At  the  epoch  which  occupies  us,  the  lives  of  the 
saints  played  the  same  part  for  the  Christians.  There  were 
men  who  occupied  themselves  in  collecting  them,  writing 
them,  and  recounting  them  for  the  edification,  no  doubt,  but 
more  especially  for  the  intellectual  pleasure  of  the  Christians. 
That  is  the  literature  of  the  time,  properly  so  called.  In  our 
next  lecture,  I  shall  lay  some  of  those  before  you,  as  well  as 
some  monuments  of  profane  literature,  which  we  likewise 
meet  there. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  337 


SEVENTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Preface  of  the  Old  Mortality  of  Walter  Scott — Robert  Patterson  —Pre- 
face of  the  Vie  de  Saint  Marcellin,  bishop  of  Embrun,  written  at 
the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century — Saint  Ceran,  bishop  of 
Paris — Eagerness  of  the  Christians  of  these  times  to  collect  the  tra- 
ditions and  monuments  of  the  life  of  the  saints  and  martyrs — Statis- 
tics of  this  branch  of  sacred  literature — Collection  c£  the  Bollandists 
— Cause  of  the  number  and  popularity  of  legends— They  almos* 
alone  satisfy  at  this  epoch — 1.  The  wants  of  the  moral  nature  of 
man — Examples  :  Life  of  Saint  Bavon,  of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  of 
Saint  Valery — 2.  The  wants  of  physical  nature — Examples:  Life  of 
St.  Germain  of  Paris,  of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  of  Saint  Rusticulus,  of 
Saint  Sulpicius  of  Bourges— 3.  The  wants  of  the  imagination — Ex- 
amples :  Life  of  Saint  Seine,  of  Saint  Austregesilus — Literary  de- 
fects and  merits  of  legends. 

Heading  the  Puritans  of  Walter  Scott  is  a  preface  which 
the  French  translators  have  omitted,  I  know  not  why,  and 
from  which  I  take  the  following  details  : 

"  The  tombs  of  the  puritan  martyrs,  scattered  in  large 
numbers,  especially  in  some  counties  of  Scotland,  are  still 
objects  for  the  respect  and  devotion  of  their  partisans.  It  is 
sixty  years  ago  that  a  man  living  in  the  county  of  Dumfries, 
named  Robert  Patterson,  a  descendant,  it  was  supposed,  of 
one  of  the  victims  of  the  persecution,  quitted  his  house  and 
small  inheritance,  in  order  to  devote  himself  to  the  task  of 
keeping  these  modest  tombs  in  repair.  .  .  .  He  contrived  to 
discover  them  in  the  most  secret  places,  in  the  mountains  and 
rocks  where  the  insurgent  puritans  had  taken  refuge,  and 
where,  often  surprised  by  troops,  they  perished  sword  in  hand, 
or  were  shot  after  the  combat.  He  freed  the  funeral  stone 
from  the  moss  which  covered  it,  he  renewed  the  half  effaced 
inscription  where  the  pious  friends  of  the  dead  had  expressed, 
in  scriptural  style,  both  the  celestial  joys  which  awaited  him, 
and  the  malediction  which  should  for  ever  pursue  his  mur- 
derers. Every  year  he  visited  all  the  tombs :  no  season 
stopped  him ;  he  begged  not,  nor  had  he  any  need  so  to  do  ; 
hospitality  was  always  assured  him  in  the  families  of  the  mar- 
tyrs or  zealots  of  the  sect.  For  nearly  thirty  years  he  conti- 
nued this  painful  oilirrimage  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  more  than 


338  HISTOKY   OF 

twenty-five  years  since  he  was  found  exhausted  with  fatigue 
and  breathing  his  last  sigh  upon  the  high  road,  near  Lockerby ; 
by  his  side  was  his  old  white  horse,  the  companion  of  his  ;  a- 
bors.  In  many  parts  of  Scotland,  Robert  Patterson  is  still 
remembered,  and  the  people,  ignorant  of  his  real  name, 
designated  him,  from  the  employment  to  which  he  devoted  his 
life,  by  that  of  Old  Mortality  (man  of  the  dead  of  olden 
times)." 

I  go  back  from  the  eighteenth  to  the  sixth  century,  and  I 
read  at  the  head  of  the  Life  of  Saint  Marcellin,  bishop  of 
Embrun,  this  little  prologue  : 

"  By  the  bounty  of  Christ,  the  combats  of  the  illustrious 
martyrs,  and  the  praises  of  the  blessed  confessors,  have  filled 
the  world  to  such  a  degree,  that  almost  every  town  may  boast 
of  having  as  patrons  martyrs  born  within  its  bosom.  Hence 
it  happens,  that  the  more  they  write  and  propagate  the  ines- 
timable recompense  which  they  received  for  their  virtues,  the 
more  will  the  gratitude  of  the  faithful  increase.  According- 
ly, I  find  my  pleasure  in  seeking  everywhere  the  palms  of 
these  glorious  champions  ;  and  while  travelling  with  this  view, 
I  arrived  at  the  city  of  Embrun.  There  I  found  that  a  man, 
long  since  sleeping  with  the  Lord,  still  performs  signal  mira- 
cles  I  asked,  curiously,  what  had  been  the  kind  of 

life  of  this  holy  man  from  his  infancy,  what  was  his  country, 
by  what  proofs  and  by  what  marvels  of  virtue  he  had  been 
raised  to  the  sublime  charge  of  pontiff;  and  all  declared  with 
one  voice  what  I  have  here  committed  to  writing.  Men  even 
whose  age  has  been  prolonged  to  a  very  late  period,  and  some 
of  whom  have  attained  ninety,  and  even  a  hundred  years, 
have  given  me  unanimous  answers  concerning  the  holy  pon- 
tiff.  ...  I  wish,  therefore,  to  transmit  his  memory  to  future 
ages,  although  I  feel  my  weakness  succumb  under  such  a 
burden."1 

Behold  the  Robert  Patterson  of  the  sixth  century  :  this  un- 
known  man  performed  the  same  travels,  and  fulfilled  almosl 
the  same  office  for  the  Christian  heroes  of  this  epoch,  as  Old 
Mortality  did  for  the  martyrs  of  Scotch  puritanism.  It  was  a 
taste,  a  general  need  of  the  age,  that  of  seeking  all  the  tradi- 
tions, al.  the  monuments  of  the  martyrs  and  saints,  and  trans. 


1  Vie  de  Saint  Marcellin,  1 1  the  Acta  Sanctorum  of  the  Bollandists, 
20th  April,  vol.  ii.,  p.  751. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  339 

mitting  them  to  posterity.  Saint  Ceraune,  or  Ceran  bishop 
of  Paris  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century,  likewise  de- 
voted his  life  to  this  task.  He  wrote  to  all  the  priests  whom 
he  thought  learned  in  the  pious  traditions  of  their  country, 
praying  them  to  collect  such  for  him :  we  know,  among 
others,  that  he  addressed  himself  to  a  priest  of  the  diocese  of 
Langres,  called  Warnacher,  and  that  this  latter  sent  him  the 
acts  of  three  sainted  brothers  of  one  birth,  Speusippius,  Eleu- 
sippius,  and  Meleusippius,  martyrized  in  that  diocese  shortly 
after  the  middle  of  the  second  century  ;  and  of  Saint  Didier, 
bishop  of  Langres,  who  underwent  the  same  fate  about  one 
hundred  years  later.  It  would  be  easy  to  find  many  analo- 
gous facts  in  the  history  of  Christianity,  from  the  fourth  to  the 
tenth  century. 

Thus  were  amassed  the  materials  of  the  collection  com- 
menced in  1643  by  Bolland,  a  Jesuit  of  Belgium,  since  con- 
tinued by  many  other  scholars,  and  known  under  the  name 
of  Eecueil  des  Bollandistes.  All  monuments  relative  to  the 
life  of  the  saints  are  there  collected  and  classed  by  month  and 
day.  The  enterprise  was  interrupted  in  1794  by  the  Belgian 
revolution ;  so  the  work  is  finished  only  for  the  first  nine 
months  of  the  year,  and  the  first  fourteen  days  of  the  month 
of  October.  The  end  of  October,  and  the  months  of  Novem- 
ber and  December  j.re  wanting  ;  but  the  materials  for  them 
were  prepared :  they  have  been  found,  and  it  is  said  that  no 
time  will  be  lost  in  publishing  them. 

In  its  actual  state,  this  collection  contains  53  volumes  folio, 
of  which  the  following  is  the  distribution : — 


Vols. 

Vols. 

January . 

.     .     2 

July 7 

February 

.     .     3 

August    ....     6 

March    . 

.     .     3 

September    ...     8 

April 

-     .     3 

October  (up  to  the 

May 

.     .     8 

fourteenth  day)  .     6 

June 

.     .     7 

Would  you  have  an  idea  of  the  number  of  lives  of  the 
saints,  long  or  succinct,  contemporaneous  or  not,  which  fill 
these  53  volumes  ?  Here  is  the  list,  day  by  day,  of  those  of 
the  month  of  April : — 


340 


HISTORY 

OF 

Saints. 

Saints. 

April  1.     .     . 

.      40 

April  17.     .     . 

.     42 

2.     .     . 

.     41 

18.     .     . 

.     46 

3.     .     . 

.     26 

19.     . 

.     38 

4.     .     , 

,     26 

20.     .     . 

.     57 

5.     .     . 

.     20 

21.     .     . 

.     24 

6.     . 

.     55 

22.     .     . 

.     62 

7.     . 

.     35 

23.     . 

.     42 

8.     . 

.     25 

24.     .     . 

.     74 

9.     . 

.     39 

25.     . 

.     30 

10.     . 

.     30 

26.     . 

48 

11.     . 

.     39 

27.     . 

.     56 

12.     . 

.   141 

28.     . 

45 

13.     . 

.     39 

29.     . 

.     .     58 

14.     . 

.     46 

30.     . 

.   126 

15.  . 

16.  . 

.     41 

.     81 

1472 

I  have  not  made  the  calculation  for  the  fifty-three  volumes  ; 
but  according  to  this  amount  of  one  month,  and  judging  by 
approximation,  they  contain  more  than  25,000  lives  of  saints. 
I  must  add  that  many,  doubtless,  have  been  lost,  and  that 
many  others  still  remain  unpublished  in  the  libraries.  This 
simple  statistic  shows  you  the  extent  of  this  literature,  and 
what  prodigious  activity  of  mind  it  presupposes  in  the  sphere 
of  which  it  is  the  ^object. 

Such  an  activity,  such  a  fertility,  surely  did  not  proceed 
from  the  mere  fancy  of  the  authors  ;  there  were  general  and 
powerful  causes  for  it.  It  is  customary  to  see  them  only  in 
the  religious  doctrines  of  this  epoch,  in  the  zeal  which  they 
inspired  :  assuredly,  they  conspired  thereto ;  and  nothing  of 
the  kind  was  done  without  their  influence ;  still  they  did  not 
do  all.  In  other  times,  also,  these  doctrines  were  diffused, 
were  energetic  without  producing  the  same  result.  It  was 
not  merely  to  faith  and  to  religious  exaltation  ■  it  was  also, 
and  perhaps  more  especially,  to  the  moral  state  of  society  and 
of  man,  from  the  fifth  to  the  tenth  century,  that  the  literature 
of  legends  owes  its  richness  and  popularity.  • 

You  know  the  character  of  the  epoch  which  we  have  just 
studied  :  it  was  a  time  of  misery  and  extreme  disorder,  one  of 
those  times  which  weigh,  in  some  measure,  in  all  directions 
upon  mankind,  checking  and  destroying  it.  But  however 
bad  the  times  may  be,  whatever  may  be  the  external  circum- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  341 

stances  which  oppress  human  nature,  there  is  an  energy,  an 
elasticity  in  it,  which  resists  their  empire  ;  it  has  faculties, 
wants  which  make  their  way  through  all  obstacles ;  a  thousand 
causes  may  curb  them,  turn  them  from  their  natural  direc- 
tion, suspend  or  divert  their  development  for  a  greater  or  less 
length  of  time ;  nothing  can  abolish  them,  reduce  them  to  a 
state  of  complete  impotence :  they  seek  and  always  find  some 
issue,  some  satisfaction. 

It  was  the  merit  of  the  pious  legends  to  give  to  some  of  those 
powerful  instincts,  those  invincible  wa."ats  of  the  human  soul, 
that  issue,  that  satisfaction,  which  all  elsewhere  refused  them. 

And  first  you  know  to  what  a  deplorable  state  Frankish- 
Gaul  had  arrived,  what  depravation  or  what  brutality  reigned 
there.  The  view  of  the  daily  recurring  events  revolted  or 
suppressed  all  the  moral  instincts  of  man ;  everything  was 
abandoned  to  chance  or  to  force  ;  we  scarcely  meet,  in  the 
interior  world,  with  that  empire  of  idea  of  duty,  that  respect 
for  right,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  security  of  life  and 
the  repose  of  the  soul.  They  were  found  in  the  legends. 
Whoever  will  cast  a  glance,  on  the  one  hand,  upon  the 
chronicles  of  civil  society,  on  the  other,  upon  the  lives  of  the 
saints, — whoever,  in  the  History  of  Gregory  of  Tours  alone, 
will  compare  the  civil  traditions  and  the  religious  traditions, 
will  be  struck  with  their  difference  ;  in-  the  one,  morality 
only  appears,  so  to  speak,  in  spite  of  mankind  and  without 
their  knowledge ;  interest  and  passions  alone  reign  :  people 
are  plunged  into  their  chaos  and  darkness ;  in  the  others, 
amidst  a  deluge  of  absurd  fables,  morality  bursts  forth  with  an 
immense  influence ;  it  is  seen,  it  is  felt ;  this  sun  of  intellect 
shines  upon  the  world  in  the  bosom  of  which  it  lives.  I  might 
refer  you  almost  indifferently  to  all  the  legends  ;  you  would 
everywhere  meet  with  the  fact  I  point  out.  Two  or  three  ex- 
amples will  make  it  fully  evident. 

Saint  Bavon,  or  Bav,  hermit  and  patron  of  the  town  of 
Ghent,  who  died  in  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century,  had  at 
first  led  a  worldly  life ;  I  read  in  his  history,  written  by  a  co- 
temporary  : 

"  One  day  he  saw  a  man  come  to  him,  whom  formerly,  and 
while  he  still  led  a  worldly  life,  he  had  himself  sold.  At  this 
sight,  he  fell  into  a  violent  fit  of  despair  for  having  committed 
so  great  a  crime  towards  this  man  ;  and,  turning  towards 
him,  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  saying,  '  It  is  I  by  whom  thou  wast 
sold,  tied  with  thongs ;  remember  not,  I  implore  thee,  lh« 


342  HISTORY   OF 

evil  that  I  have  done  to  thee,  and  grant  me  one  prayer.  Strike 
my  body  with  rods,  shave  my  head  as  thou  wouldst  that  of  a 
robber,  and  cast  me  in  prison  as  I  deserve,  with  my  feet  and 
hands  tied ;  may  be,  if  thou  dost  this,  the  Divine  mercy  will 
grant  me  his  pardon.5  The  man  ....  says  that  he  dare  not 
do  such  a  thing  to  his  master  ;  but  the  holy  man,  who  spoke 
eloquently,  strove  to  induce  him  fo  do  what  he  asked. 
Finally,  constrained,  and  despite  himself,  the  other,  overcome 
by  his  prayers,  did  as  he  required  him  ;  he  tied  the  hands  of 
the  godly  man,  shaved  his  head,  tied  his  feet  to  a  stick,  and 
conducted  him  to  the  public  prison  ;  and  the  holy  man  re- 
mained there  many  days,  deploring  day  and  night  those  acts 
of  a  worldly  life,  which  he  had  always  before  his  mind's  eye. 
as  a  heavy  burden."1 

The  exaggeration  of  these  details  is  of  little  importance  ; 
even  the  material  truth  of  the  history  is  of  little  importance  : 
it  was  written  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century,  to 
those  men  of  the  seventh  century  who  incessantly  had  under 
their  observation  servitude,  the  sale  of  slaves,  and  all  the 
iniquities,  all  the  sufferings,  which  ensued  from  their  condi- 
tion. You  can  understand  what  a  charm  this  simple  recital 
possessed  for  them.  It  was  a  real  moral  relief,  a  protest 
against  odious  and  powerful  facts,  a  weak  but  precious  echo 
of  the  rights  of  liberty. 

Here  is  a  fact  of  another  nature  :  I  take  it  from  the  Life  of 
Saint  Wandregisilus,  Abbot  of  Fontenelle,  who  died  in  667, 
and  who,  before  embracing  the  monastic  life,  had  been  count 
of  the  palace  of  king  Dagobert : — 

"  While  he  still  led  a  lay  life,  as  he  was  travelling  one  day 
accompanied  by  his  people,  he  arrived  at  a  certain  place  on 
his  road  ;  the  people  in  insurrection  abandoned  themselves  to 
all  the  transports  of  fury  against  the  holy  man  :  impelled  by 
a  barbarous  and  insensate  rage,  and  fallen  into  the  condition 
of  beasts,  a  crowd  of  people  rushed  towards  him,  and  much 
blood  would  have  been  shed,  if  his  intervention  and  the  power 
of  Christ  had  not  provided  a  remedy.  He  implored  the  succor 
of  Him  to  whom  it  is  said  :  '  Thou  art  my  refuge  against  tri- 
bulations f  and  trusting  to  words  instead  of  his  sword,  he 
placed  himself  under  the  shield  of  Divine  mercy.     Divine 


1  In  653  or  657.      Life  of  Saint  Bavon,  §  10,  Acta  Santt.  Ord.  S 
Ben.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  400. 


CIVIL  ZATION    IN    FRANCE.  343 

nelp  did  not  fail  him,  when  human  help  was  wanting ;  this 
crowd  of  madmen  stood  immoveable.  The  discourse  of  the 
holy  man  then  dispersed  and  saved  them  at  the  same  time ; 
they  came  in  fury,  and  they  retired  in  quiet."1 

Would  you  suppose  that  at  this  epoch  it  would  have  occurred 
to  any  barbarian,  to  any  man  a  stranger  to  religious  ideas, 
thus  to  manage  the  multitude,  to  employ  only  persuasion  and 
words,  in  order  to  appease  a  disturbance  ?  It  is  very  probable 
that  he  would  have  had  immediate  recourse  to  force.  The 
rash  employment  of  force  was  repugnant  to  a  pious  man,  pre 
occupied  with  the  idea  that  he  had  to  do  with  souls  ;  instead 
of  physical  force,  he  invoked  moral  force  ;  before  massacre, 
he  tried  a  sermon. 

I  now  take  an  example  in  which  the  relations  of  men  shall 
be  nothing,  in  which  no  attempt  shall  be  made  to  substitute 
moral  for  physical  force,  nor  to  protest  against  social  iniquity  ; 
in  which  there  is  no  question  concerning  anything  but  indi- 
vidual, private  sentiments,  of  the  internal  life  of  man.  I  read 
in  the  life  of  Saint  Valery,  who  died  in  622,  abbot  of  Saint 
Valery,  in  Picardy : 

"  As  this  godly  man  returned  on  foot  from  a  certain  place," 
says  Cayeux,  "  to  his  monastery,  in  the  winter  season,  it  hap- 
pened, by  reason  of  the  excessive  rigor  of  the  cold,  that  he 
stopped  to  warm  himself  in  the  dwelling  of  a  certain  priest. 
This  latter  and  his  companions,  who  should  have  treated  such ' 
a  guest  with  great  respect,  began,  on  the  contrary,  boldly  to 
hold  unsuitable  and  ill  discourse  with  the  judge  of  the  place. 
Faithful  to  his  custom  always  to  put  the  salutary  remedy  of 
the  Divine  word  upon  corrupted  and  frightful  wounds,  he 
attempted  to  check  them,  saying :  '  My  sons,  have  you  not 
seen  in  the  Evangelist  that  at  the  day  of  judgment  you  will 
have  to  account  for  every  idle  word  V  But  they,  scorning 
his  admonition,  abandoned  themselves  more  and  more  to  gross 
and  obscene  discourse,  for  the  mouth  speaks  from  the  over- 
flowing of  the  heart.  As  for  him,  he  said  :  '  I  desired,  by 
reason  of  the  cold,  to  warm  my  fatigued  body  a  little  at  your 
fire  ;  but  your  guilty  discourse  forces  me  to  depart,  all  frozen 
as  I  am.'     And  he  left  the  house."2 


1  Life  of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  §  4,  in  the  Acta  Sanct.  Ord.  S.  Ben. 
TO.   M.,  p.  535. 

»  Life  of  Saint  Valery,  §  25,  in  the  Acta  Sanct.  Ord.  S  Ben.,  voi 
ti.,  p.  86. 


344  HISTORY    OP 

Of  a  surety  the  manners  and  language  of  the  men  of  thii 
age  were  very  coarse,  disorderly,  impure ;  still,  doubtless, 
respect,  a  taste  even  for  gravity,  for  purity,  both  in  thought 
and  word,  was  not  abolished  ;  and  when  they  found  an  occa- 
sion, many  among  them  certainly  took  pleasure  in  satisfying 
that  taste.  The  legends  alone  furnished  them  with  the  means. 
There  was  presented  the  image  of  a  moral  state,  highly  supe- 
rior, in  every  respect,  to  that  of  the  external  society,  of 
common  life  ;  the  human  mind  might  there  repose,  relieved 
from  the  view  of  crimes  and  vices  which  assailed  it  on  all 
sides.  Perhaps  it  scarcely  itself  sought  this  -elief ;  I  doubt 
if  it  ever  made  account  of  it ;  but,  when  it  came  upon  it,  it. 
eagerly  enjoyed  it ;  and  this,  no  doubt,  was  the  first  and  most 
powerful  cause  of  the  popularity  of  this  literature. 

This  was  not  all :  it  also  answered  to  other  wants  of  our 
nature,  to  those  wants  of  affection,  of  sympathy,  which  pro- 
ceed, if  not  from  morality,  properly  so  called,  at  least  from 
moral  sensibility,  and  which  exercise  so  much  influence  over 
the  soul.  The  sensible  faculties  had  much  to  suffer  at  the 
epoch  which  occupies  us ;  men  were  hard,  and  were  treated 
harshly ;  the  most  natural  sentiments,  kindness,  pity,  friend- 
ship, both  of  family  and  of  choice,  took  but  a  weak  or  painful 
development.  And  yet  they  were  not  dead  in  the  heart  of 
man  :  they  often  sought  to  display  themselves  ;  and  the  sight 
of  their  presence,  of  their  power,  charmed  a  population  con- 
demned to  so  little  enjoyment  of  them  in  real  life.  The 
legends  gave  them  this  spectacle  ;  although  by  a  very  false 
idea,  in  my  opinion,  and  one  which  has  produced  deplorable 
extravagances,  the  religion  of  the  time  often  commanded  the 
sacrifice,  even  the  contempt  of  the  most  legitimate  feelings, 
still  it  did  not  stifle,  it  did  not  interdict  the  development  of 
human  sensibility  ;  while  very  often  ill  directing  its  applica- 
tion, it  favored  rather  than  suppressed  its  exercise.  We  find, 
in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  more  benevolence,  more  tenderness 
of  heart,  a  larger  part  given  to  the  affections,  than  in  any 
other  monument  of  this  epoch.  I  will  place  before  you  some 
instances ;  I  am  convinced  you  will  be  struck  with  the  deve- 
lopment of  our  sensible  nature,  which  breaks  forth  amidst  the 
theory  of  sacrifice  and  self-denial. 

The  ardent  zeal  of  Saint  Germain,  bishop  of  Paris  in  the 
ast  half  of  the  sixth  century,1  for  the  redemption  of  slaves,  is 

1  Died  in  576 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  349 

tnown  by  every  one  ;  many  pictures  have  perpetuated  it,  but 
the  touching  details  of  it  must  be  read  in  his  life  : 

"  Were  even  the  voices  of  all  united  in  one,  you  could  not 
say  how  prodigal  were  his  alms ;  often  contenting  himself 
with  a  tunic,  he  covered  some  poor  naked  object  with  the  res' 
of  his  clothes,  so  that  while  the  beggar  was  warm,  the  bene 
factor  was  cold.  It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  in  how  manv 
places,  or  in  what  number,  he  redeemed  captives.  Thr 
neighboring  nations,  the  Spaniards,  the  Scotch,  the  Britons 
the  Gascons,  the  Saxons,  the  Burgundians,  may  attest  i» 
what  way  recourse  was  had,  on  all  sides,  to  the  name  of  the 
Saint,  in  order  to  be  delivered  from  the  yoke  of  slavery. 
When  he  had  nothing  more  left,  he  remained  seated,  sorrow- 
ful and  restless,  with  a  more  grave  visage-  and  a  more  solemn 
conversation.  If  by  chance  any  one  then  invited  him  to  a 
repast,  he  excited  the  guests,  or  his  own  servants,  to  concert 
the  manner  of  delivering  a  captive,  and  the  soul  of  the  bishop 
escaped  a  little  from  its  despondency.  If  the  Lord,  in  any 
way,  sent  means  to  the  saint,  immediately,  seeking  in  his 
mind,  he  was  accustomed  to  say :  •  Let  us  return  thanks  to  the 
Divine  clemency,  for  the  means  of  effecting  redemption  has 
arrived,'  and  at  once,  without  hesitation,  the  effect  followed 
the  words.  When,  therefore,  he  had  thus  received  anything, 
the  wrinkles  on  his  forehead  disappeared,  his  countenance 
was  more  serene,  he  walked  with  a  lighter  step,  his  discourse 
was  more  copious  and  lively  ;  so  much  so  that  one  would 
have  thought  that,  in  redeeming  others,  this  man  delivered 
himself  from  the  yoke  of  slavery."1 

Never  has  the  passion  of  goodness  been  painted  with  a  mor» 
simple  and  a  truer  energy. 

In  the  life  of  Saint  Wandregisilus,  abbot  of  Fontenelle,  o< 
whom  I  have  just  spoken,  I  find  this  anecdote  : 

"  As  he  repaired  one  day  to  king  Dagobert,  just  as  he  ap 
proached  the  palace,  there  was  a  poor  man  whose  cart  hat' 
been  overthrown  before  the  very  gate  of  the  king  :  many  peo 
pie  passed  in  and  out,  and  not  only  they  did  not  lend  him  anv 
aid,  but  many  passed  over  him,  and  trod  him  under  foot.  Thi 
man  of  God,  when  he  arrived,  saw  the  impiety  which  thes< 
children  of  insolence  committed,  and  immediately  descending 


i  Life  of  Saint  Germain,  bishop  of  Paris,  §  71,  in  the  Acta  Sand 
Ord  S.  Ben.,  vol.  i.,  p.  244. 


946  HISTORY   OF 

from  his  horse,  he  held  his  hand  out  to  the  poor  man,  and  both 
together,  they  raised  the  cart.  Many  of  those  present,  seeing 
him  all  soiled  with  mud,  mocked  and  insulted  him  ;  but  he 
cared  not,  following  with  humility  the  humble  example  of  his 
Master ;  for  the  Lord  himself  has  said  in  the  Gospel :  '  If  they 
have  called  the  master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  how  much 
more  shall  they  call  them  of  his  household  V  >n 

Here  is  another  taken  from  the  Life  of  Saint  Sulpicius  the 
Pious,  bishop  of  Bourges,  in  which  breathes,  amidst  the  most 
puerile  credulity,  a  benevolence  and  a  mildness  certainly  very 
foreign  to  the  general  manners  of  the  epoch. 

"  One  night,  a  ruffian,  doubtless  poor,  introduced  himself 
violently  into  the  pantry  of  the  holy  man  :  he  soon  seized  upon 
what,  in  his  criminal  heart,  he  proposed  stealing,  and  hastens 
to  get  out ;  but  he  finds  no  opening,  he  is  imprisoned  within 
the  surrounding  walls,  and  confined  on  all  sides.  The  night 
slipt  away  fruitlessly  to  this  man  who  had  entered  so  easily, 
and  who  could  not  see  the  slightest  outlet.  However,  the  light 
of  day  began  to  light  the  world ;  the  man  of  God  called  one 
of  his  guards,  ordered  him  to  take  a  comrade,  and  to  bring  to 
him  the  man  they  should  find  in  the  office,  plunged  in  crime, 
and  as  if  bound. 

"  The  servant  went  without  delay  to  seek  a  companion,  and 
repaired  to  the  office :  there  they  found  the  guilty  man,  and 
seized  him  to  carry  him  off;  the  knave  escaped  from  their 
hands ;  and  seeing  himself  loaded  with  crimes,  surrounded 
with  people,  preferring  a  speedy  death  to  the  punishment  of 
his  long  transgressions,  he  rushed  into  a  well  nearly  eighty 
cubits  deep,  which  he  saw  near  him ;  but  at  the  moment  when 
he  fell  into  the  abyss,  he  implored  the  prayers  of  the  blessed 
bishop.  The  man  of  God  ran  quickly,  and  ordered  one  of 
his  servants  to  descend  into  the  well  by  means  of  a  cord,  en- 
joining him  expressly  immediately  to  draw  up  the  criminal 
who  had  thrown  himself  in.  All  exclaimed  that  any  one 
whom  such  an  abyss  had  swallowed  could  not  live,  and  that 
surely  he  was  dead  already ;  but  the  holy  man  ordered  his 
servant  to  obey  him  without  delay.  The  latter  waited  no 
longer,  and,  strengthened  with  the  benediction  of  the  saint, 
he  found   him  whom  they  believed  dead  sound  and  safe. 


'Life  of  Saint  Wandregiailus,  §  7,  in  the  Acta  Sand.  Old.  S.  Ben., 
»oJ.  ii.,  p.  528. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  347 

Having  surrounded  him  with  cords,  he  drew  him  captive  on 
to  his  native  soil.  The  walls  could  not  contain  the  crowd ; 
almost  the  whole  town  had  hastened  to  such  a  spectacle,  and 
all  made  a  great  noise  with  their  cries  and  plaudits.  The 
criminal,  as  if  shaking  off  a  profound  stupor,  threw  himself 
at  the  feet  of  the  saint,  and  implored  his  pardon.  The  latter, 
full  of  charity,  immediately  granted  it  to  him,  and  even  gave 
him  what  he  had  need  of,  recommending  him  to  ask,  for  the 
future,  instead  of  taking,  and  saying  that  he  would  rather 
make  him  presents  than  be  robbed  by  him.  Who  can  express 
the  perfect  humility  of  this  man,  the  prompt  mercy,  the  holy 
simplicity,  patience,  and  forbearance  I'- 
ll we  desire  examples  of  the  development  of  sensibility 
alone,  without  any  precise  application,  without  any  beneficial 
or  direct  result,  the  life  of  Saint  llusticula,  abbess  of  the  mo- 
nastery that  Saint  Cesaire  had  founded  at  Aries,  will  furnish 
us  with  two  which  seem  to  me  to  have  a  lively  interest.  Saint 
Rusticula  was  born  in  Provence,  in  the  territory  of  Vaison  : 
her  parents  had  already  one  son. 

"  One  night,  when  her  mother  Clemence  was  asleep,  she 
saw  herself,  in  a  dream,  nursing,  with  great  affection,  two 
small  doves,  one  as  white  as  snow,  the  other  of  a  mixed  color. 
As  she  occupied  herself  about  them  with  much  pleasure  and 
tenderness,  she  thought  that  her  servants  came  to  tell  her  that 
Saint  Cesaire,  bishop  of  Aries,  was  at  her  gate.  Hearing 
this,  and  delighted  at  the  arrival  of  the  saint,  she  ran  joyfully 
to  him,  and  eagerly  saluting  him,  humbly  prayed  him  to 
grant  to  her  house  the  blessing  of  his  presence.  He  entered, 
and  blessed  her.  After  having  done  him  the  due  honors,  she 
prayed  him  to  take  some  nourishment,  but  he  answered — 
'  My  daughter,  I  only  desire  thee  to  give  me  this  dove,  which 
I  have  seen  thee  rearing  so  carefully.'  Hesitating  within 
herself,  she  thought  whence  he  could  know  that  she  had  this 
dove  ;  and  she  denied  that  she  possessed  anything  of  the  kind. 
He  then  answered — '  Before  God,  I  tell  thee  I  will  not  leave 
this  place  till  thou  grant  me  my  request.'  She  could  no 
longer  excuse  herself;  she  showed  her  doves,  and  offered 
them  to  the  holy  man.  He  joyfully  took  that  which  was  of 
a  brilliant  white,  and,  congratulating  himself,  put  it  into  his 


1  Life  of  Saint  Sulpicius,  §  28  and  29,  in  the  Acta  Sanct.  Ord.  S 
Ben.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  175 


348  HISTORY   OF 

bosom ;  and  after  taking  leave  of  her,  he  departed.  When 
she  awoke,  she  reflected  upon  what  all  this  signified,  and  she 
sought  in  her  soul  why  he  who  was  no  more  had  appeared  to 
her.  She  knew  not  that  Christ  had  chosen  her  daughter  in 
marriage,  he  who  has  said,  *  A  city  that  is  set  on  a  hill  can- 
not be  hid.  Neither  do  men  light  a  candle,  and  put  it  under 
a  bushel,  but  on  a  candlestick,  and  it  giveth  light  unto  all  that 
are  in  the  house.' ,n 

There  is  certainly  nothing  remarkable  in  the  incidents  of 
this  account ;  the  foundation  is  little  conformable  to  natural 
sentiments,  since  it  is  concerning  a  daughter  being  taken 
from  her  mother ;  and  yet  there  reigns  in  i  a  general  tinge 
of  sensibility,  of  sweet  and  lively  tenderness,  which  penetrates 
even  into  the  allegory  by  which  this  sacrifice  is  asked  of  the 
mother,  and  sheds  much  charm  and  grace  over  it. 

Saint  Rusticula  governed  her  abbey  with  great  success,  and 
especially  inspired  a  deep  affection  in  her  nuns :  in  632  she 
was  ill,  and  near  to  death : 

"  It  happened  one  Friday,  that  after  having,  according  to 
her  custom,  sung  the  vespers  with  her  daughters,  and  feeling 
fatigued,  she  went  beyond  her  powers  in  giving  her  accus- 
tomed reading :  she  knew  that  she  only  went  quicker  to  the 
Lord.  The  Saturday  morning  she  was  rather  cold,  and  had 
lost  all  strength  in  her  limbs.  Then  lying  down  in  her  little 
bed,  she  was  seized  with  a  severe  fever :  she,  however,  did  not 
cease  to  praise  God,  and,  fixing  her  eyes  on  heaven,  she  re- 
commended to  his  care  her  daughters,  whom  she  left  orphans, 
and,  with  a  firm  voice,  consoled  those  who  wept  around  her. 
On  the  Sunday  she  found  herself  worse ;  and  as  it  was  cus- 
tomary to  make  her  bed  only  once  a  year,  the  servants  of  God 
asked  her  to  allow  herself  a  rather  softer  couch,  in  order  to 
spare  her  body  so  rough  a  fatigue  ;  but  she  would  not  consent 
thereto.  On  Monday,  the  day  of  Saint  Lawrence  the  martyr, 
she  still  lost  strength,  and  her  chest  made  a  great  noise.  To 
this  sight  the  sorrowful  virgins  of  Christ  answered  with- tears 
and  sighs.  As  it  was  the  third  hour  of  the  day,  and  as,  in  its 
affliction,  the  nuns  read  the  psalms  in  silence,  the  holy  mother 
asked  why  she  did  not  hear  the  psalms :  the  nuns  answered 
they  could  not  sing  by  reason  of  their  sorrow :  '  Sing  stil! 


1  Life  of  Saint  Rusticula,  §  3,  in  the  Acta  Sanct.  Ord.  S.  Ben.,  vol. 
ii.,  p.  140 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  34S 

ouder,'  said  she,  •  that  I  may  receive  the  help  of  it,  for  it  is 
very  sweet  to  me.'  The  following  day,  when  her  body  was 
almost  without  motion,  her  eyes,  which  preserved  their  vigor, 
still  shone  like  stars,  and  looking  on  all  sides,  and  being  una- 
ble to  speak,  she  imposed  silence  with  her  hand,  on  those 
who  wept,  and  gave  them  consolation.  When  one  of  the 
sisters  touched  her  feet  to  see  if  .hey  were  warm  or  cold, 
she  said  :  '  It  is  not  yet  the  hour.'  But  shortly  after,  at  the 
sixth  hour  of  the  day,  with  a  serene  countenance,  with  eyes 
shining,  and  as  if  she  smiled,  this  glorious,  blest  soul,  passed 
.o  heaven,  and  associated  with  the  innumerable  choirs  of 
saints."1 

I  know  not  if  any  of  you  have  ever  opened  a  collection, 
entitled  Memoires  pour  servir  a  VHisloire  de  Port  Royal,3 
which  contains  the  account  of  the  life  and  death  of  the  prin- 
cipal nuns  of  that  celebrated  abbey ;  among  others,  of  the 
two  Angelique  Arnaulds,  who  successively  governed  it.  Port- 
Royal,  the  branch  for  women  as  well  as  that  for  men,  was, 
as  you  know,  the  asylum  for  the  most  ardent,  the  most  inde- 
pendent souls,  as  well  as  for  the  most  elevated  minds,  that 
honored  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.  Perhaps  human  sensibility 
is  nowhere  displayed  with  more  richness  and  energy  than  in 
the  moral  history  of  these  pious  women,  of  whom  many 
shared  at  once  the  intellectual  development  of  Nicolle  and 
of  Pascal.  Well ;  the  recital  of  their  last  moments  a  good 
deal  resembles  what  I  have  just  read  :  we  find  there  the  same 
emotions  of  piety  and  friendship,  almost  the  same  language  ; 
and  the  sensible  nature  of  mankind  appears  to  us,  in  the 
seventh  century,  almost  as  lively,  and  as  developed,  as  that 
of  the  seventeenth  amidst  the  most  passionate  characters  of 
the  age. 

I  might  greatly  multiply  these  examples ;  but  we  must 
proceed.     I  have  some  to  present  to  you  of  another  kind. 

Independently  of  the  satisfaction  which  they  gave  to  mo- 
rality and  human  sensibility,  the  condition  of  which  in  the 
external  world  was  so  bad,  the  legends  also  corresponded  tc 
other  faculties,  to  other  wants.  Much  is  at  present  said  con- 
cerning the  interest,  the  movement  which,  in  the  course  of 
what  is  vaguely  called  the  middle  ages,  animated  the  life  of 


1  Life  of  Saint  Rusticula,  §  31,  p.  14« 
•Three  vols.,  12mo.     Utrecht,  1742. 


850  HISTORY    OF 

nations.  It  seems  that  great  adventures,  spectacles  and  re- 
citals  incessantly  excited  the  imagination ;  that  society  was  a 
thousand  times  more  varied  and  amusing  than  it  is  among 
us.  It  may  have  been  so  for  some  men  placed  in  the  superior 
ranks,  or  thrown  into  peculiar  situations  ;  but  for  the  mass  of 
the  population,  life  was,  on  the  contrary,  prodigiously  monoto- 
nous, insipid,  wearisome  ;  its  destiny  went  on  in  the  same 
place,  the  same  scenes  were  produced  before  the  eyes ;  there 
was  scarcely  any  external  movement,  still  less  movement  of 
mind  ;  its  pleasures  were  as  few  as  its  blessings,  and  the  con- 
dition of  its  intellect  was  not  more  agreeable  than  its  physical 
existence.  It  nowhere  so  much  as  in  the  lives  of  the  saints, 
found  nourishment  for  this  activity  of  imagination,  this  incli- 
nation for  novelty,  for  adventures,  which  exercises  so  much 
influence  over  men.  The  legends  were  to  the  Christians  of 
this  age  (let  me  be  allowed  this  purely  literary  comparison), 
what  those  long  accounts,  those  brilliant  and  varied  histories, 
of  which  the  Thousand  and  One  Nights  gives  us  a  specimen, 
were  to  the  Orientals.  It  was  there  that  the  popular  imagi- 
nation wandered  freely  in  an  unknown,  marvellous  world,  full 
of  movement  and  poetry.  It  is  difficult  for  us,  in  the  present 
day,  to  share  the  pleasure  which  was  taken  in  them  twelve 
centuries  since ;  the  habits  of  mind  have  changed ;  distrac- 
tions beset  us  :  but  we  may  at  least  understand  that  there  was 
therein  a  source  of  powerful  interest  for  this  literature.  In 
the  immense  number  of  adventures  and  scenes  with  which  it 
charmed  the  Christian  people,  I  have  selected  two  which 
will  perhaps  give  you  some  idea  of  the  kind  of  attraction 
which  they  had  for  it.  The  first  is  taken  from  the  life  of 
Saint  Seine  (Saint,  Seqaanus),  the  founder  in  the  sixth  cen- 
tury of  the  abbey  in  Burgundy,  which  took  his  name,  and 
it  describes  the  incident  which  induced  him  to  select  its  site  : 
"  When  Seine  found  himself — thanks  to  his  laudable  zeal 
— well  instructed  in  the  dogmas  of  the  divine  scriptures,  and 
learned  in  monastical  rules,  he  sought  a  place  suited  for 
building  a  monastery ;  as  he  went  over  all  the  neighboring 
places,  and  communicated  his  project  to  all  his  friends,  one  of 
his  relations,  Thiolaif,  said  to  him  :  '  Since  thou  interrogatest 
me,  I  will  point  out  a  certain  place  where  thou  mayest  estab- 
lish thyself,  if  what  thou  desirest  to  do  is  inspired  by  the  love 
of  God.  There  is  an  estate  which,  if  I  do  not  deceive  my- 
self, belongs  to  me  by  hereditary  right ;  but  the  people  around 
feed  themselves,  like  ferocious  beasts,  with  human  blood  and 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  351 

flesh ;  this  renders  it  difficult  to  go  among  them,  unless  one 
pays  a  troop  of  armed  men.'  The  blessed  Seine  answered 
him  :  •  Show  me  the  place,  to  the  end  that  if  my  desires  have 
been  conceived  by  a  divine  instinct,  all  the  ferocity  of  these 
men  may  be  changed  into  the  mildness  of  the  dove.'  Hav- 
ing, therefore,  taken  his  companions,  he  arrived  at  the  place 
of  which  they  had  spoken.  It  was  a  forest,  the  trees  of 
which  almost  touched  the  clouds,  and  whose  solitude  had  not 
for  a  long  time  been  interrupted  :  they  asked  themselves  how 
they  could  penetrate  into  it,  when  they  saw  a  winding  foot- 
path, so  narrow,  and  full  of  briars,  that  they  could  scarcely 
place  their  feet  upon  the  same  line,  and  from  the  thickness  of 
the  branches,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  one  foot  followed  the 
other.  However  with  much  labor,  and  having  their  clothes 
torn,  they  got  into  the  depths  of  this  rough  forest ;  then,  bend- 
ing towards  the  ground,  they  began  to  watch  the  profound 
darkness  with  an  attentive  eye. 

"  Having  for  some  time  looked  with  attention,  they  per- 
ceived very  narrow  openings  to  a  cavern,  obstructed  by  stones 
and  plants;  besides  which,  the  interlaced  branches  of  the 
trees  rendered  the  cavern  so  dark,  that  wild  beasts  themselves 
would  have  hesitated  to  enter  it.  This  was  the  cavern  of  the 
robbers,  and  the  resort  of  unclean  spirits.  When  they  ap- 
proached it,  Seine,  agreeable  to  God,  bent  his  knees  at  the 
entry,  and  extending  his  body  over  the  bushes,  addressed  a 
prayer  to  God,  mixed  with  tears,  saying — '  Lord,  who  hast 
made  Heaven  and  earth,  which  thou  givest  to  the  wishes  of 
him  who  implores  thee,  and  who  originatest  all  good,  and 
without  whom  all  the  weak  efforts  of  humanity  are  useless, 
if  thou  orderest  me  to  live  in  this  solitude,  make  the  same 
known  unto  me,  and  lead  to  good  the  beginnings  which  thou 
hast  granted  to  my  devotion.'  When  he  had  finished  his 
prayer,  he  arose,  and  raised  his  hands  towards  heaven,  and 
his  eyes,  which  were  moist  with  tears.  Knowing  then  that  v 
was  under  the  conduct  of  the  Saviour  that  he  had  repaired 
into  this  dark  forest,  after  having  blessed  the  place,  he  imme- 
diately set  about  placing  the  foundations  of  a  cell  where  he 
had  kneeled  to  pray.  The  report  of  his  arrival  came  to  the 
ears  of  the  neighboring  inhabitants,  who,  each  exhorting  the 
other,  and  impelled  by  a  divine  movement,  repaired  near  him. 
When  they  had  seen  him,  from  wolves  they  became  lambs, 
so  that  those  who  were  formerly  a  sourco  of  terror  were 
henceforth  ministers  of  help  ;  and,  from  that  time,  this  place, 


352  HISTOEY   OF 

wnieh  was  the  resort  for  divers  cruel  demons  and  robbers, 
became  the  abode  of  innocents."1 

Should  we  not  suppose  that  we  were  reading  the  accoun 
of  the  establishment  of  some  colonists  in  the  heart  of  the  most 
distant  forests  of  America,  or  of  some  pious  missionaries 
amidst  the  most  savage  hordes  ? 

Here  is  an  account  of  a  different  character,  but  which  is  no 
less  full  of  movement  and  inteiest. 

Still  young,  and  before  entering  into  the  ecclesiastical  order, 
Saint  Austregesilus,  bishop  of  Bourges,  at  the  commencement 
of  the  seventh  century,  manifested  a  lively  desire  to  forsake 
the  world,  and  not  to  marry. 

"  Hearing  him  speak  thus,  his  parents  began  to  press  him 
earnestly  to  obey  them  in  this  respect.  He,  in  order  that  he 
might  not  see  them  discontented,  whom  he  desired  to  see 
satisfied,  promised  to  do  as  they  asked  him,  if  such  was  the 
will  of  God. 

"  When,  therefore,  he  was  occupied  in  the  king's  service, 
he  began  to  return  to  this  business,  and  to  seek  what  would 
best  befit  him  to  do.  He  recollected  three  men  of  the  same 
nation,  and  of  equal  fortune.  He  wrote  their  names  upon 
three  tablets,  and  put  them  under  the  cover  of  the  altar  in  the 
cathedral  of  Saint  John,  near  the  town  of  Chalons,  and  made 
a  vow  to  pass  three  nights  in  prayer  without  sleeping.  After 
the  three  nights,  he  was  to  put  his  hands  upon  the  altar,  tak- 
ing the  tablet  which  the  Lord  should  deign  to  make  him  find 
first,  and  demand  in  marriage  the  daughter  of  the  man  whose 
name  should  be  upon  the  tablet.  After  having  passed  one 
night  without  sleep,  the  next  night  he  found  himself  overcome 
by  it,  and  towards  the  middle  of  the  night,  unable  to  resist 
any  longer,  his  limbs  gave  way,  and  he  fell  asleep  upon  a 
seat.  Two  old  men  presented  themselves  to  his  view.  One 
said  to  the  other  :  '  Whose  daughter  is  Austregesilus  to  mar- 
ry V  The  other  answered :  '  Art  thou  ignorant  that  he  is 
already  married  V  '  To  whom  V  '  To  the  daughter  of  judge 
Just.'  Austregesilus  then  awoke,  and  applied  himself  to 
finding  out  who  this  Just  was,  of  what  place  he  was  judge, 
and  if  he  had  a  virgin  daughter.  As  he  could  not  find  him, 
he  repaired,  according  to  custom,  to  the  king's  palace.     He 


1  Life  of  Saint  Seine,  §  7  and  8.     Acta  Sanct.  Ord.  S.  Ben.,  vol  i., 
V  264 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  353 

arrived  in  a  village  where  there  was  an  inn.     Some  travel 
lers  were  assembled  there,  among  others,  a  poor  veteran  with 
his  wife.     When  this  woman  saw  Austregesilus,  she  said  to 
him : 

"  '  Stranger,  stop  an  instant,  and  I  will  tell  thee  what  I  have 
lately  seen  concerning  thee  in  a  dream ;  it  appeared  as  if  I 
heard  a  great  noise,  like  that  of  the  singing  of  psalms,  and  I 
said  to  my  host :  "  Man,  what  is  this  that  I  hear  ?  what  festi- 
val is  now  being  celebrated  by  the  priests,  that  they  make 
this  procession  t  He  answered  :  "  Our  guest  Austregesilus 
is  being  married."  Full  of  joy,  I  was  eager  to  see  the  young 
bride,  and  to  view  her  face  and  form.  When  the  priests, 
clothed  in  white,  carrying  crosses,  and  singing  psalms  in  the 
usual  manner,  were  passed,  thou  earnest  out,  and  all  the  peo- 
ple followed  behind  ;  for  me,  I  looked  with  curiosity,  and  I 
saw  no  woman,  not  even  the  girl  whom  thou  wert  to  marry ; 
I  said  to  thy  host :  "  Where  is  the  virgin  whom  Austregesilus 
is  to  marry  Vs  he  answered :  "  Do  you  not  see  her  in  his 
hands  ?"  I  looked,  and  I  only  saw  in  thy  hands  the  book  of 
the  gospel.'  Then  the  saint  understood  by  his  vision  and  the 
dream  of  this  woman,  that  the  voice  of  God  called  him  to  the 
priesthood."1 

There  is  here  no  miracle,  properly  so  called ;  all  is  confined 
to  dreams ;  but  you  see  what  movement  of  imagination  is 
connected  with  all  the  sentiment,  with  all  the  incidents  of  a 
religious  life,  and  with  what  eagerness  the  people  received 
them. 

These  are  the  true  sources  of  this  literature  ;  it  gave  to  the 
moral,  physical,  and  poetical  nature  of  man,  a  nourishment,  a 
satisfaction  which  it  found  nowhere  else ;  it  elevated  and  agi- 
tated his  soul ;  it  animated  his  life.  Hence  its  fertility  and 
its  credit. 

If  it  were  our  purpose  to  consider  it  under  a  purely  literary 
point  of  view,  we  should  find  its  merits  neither  very  brilliant 
nor  very  varied.  Truth  of  sentiment  and  naivete  of  tone  are 
not  wanting  to  it ;  it  is  devoid  of  affectation  and  pedantry.  The 
narrative  is  not  only  interesting,  but  it  is  often  conceived  under 
a  rather  dramatic  form.  In  the  eastern  countries,  where  the 
charm  of  narration  is  great,  the  dramatic  form  is  rare ;  we 


1  Life  of  Saint  Austregesilus,  §  2,  in  the  Acta  Sand.  Ord.  S.  Ben, 
vol.  ii.,  p.  95. 


354  HISTORY    OF 

there  meet  with  few  conversations,  few  dialogues,  with  little 
getting  np,  properly  speaking.  There  is  much  more  of  this 
in  the  legends ;  dialogue  is  there  habitual,  and  often  progresses 
with  nature  and  vivacity.  But  we  should  in  vain  seek  a  little 
order  in  them,  any  art  of  composition ;  even  for  the  least  ex- 
acting minds,  the  confusion  is  extreme,  the  monotony  great ; 
credulity  continually  descends  to  the  ridiculous,  and  the  Ian- 
guage  has  arrived  at  a  degree  of  imperfection,  of  corruption, 
of  coarseness,  which,  in  the  present  day,  pains  and  wearies  the 
reader. 

I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  also  on  a  portion  (very  inconsider- 
able, it  is  true,  but  which,  however,  I  ought  not  to  omit)  of  the 
literature  of  this  period,  that  is,  its  profane  literature.  I  have 
observed  that,  dating  from  the  sixth  century,  sacred  literature 
was  alone,  that  all  profane  literature  had  disappeared ;  there 
were,  however,  some  remains  of  it ;  certain  chronicles,  certain 
occasional  poems  which  belonged  not  to  religious  society,  and 
which  merit  a  moment's  attention.  In  our  next  lecture,  I  shall 
present  to  you,  on  some  of  those  monuments  so  little  known  in 
the  present  day,  developments  which  appear  to  me  not  unin- 
teresting. 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  355 


EIGHTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Some  wrecks  of  profane  literature  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century 
— -Of  their  true  character — 1st,  Prose  writers — Gregory  of  Tours — 
His  life — His  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  Franks — The  influence 
of  the  ancient  Latin  literature  unites  with  that  of  the  Christian  doc- 
trines— Mixture  of  civil  and  religious  history— Fredegaire— His 
Chronicle — 2dly,  Poets — Saint  Avitus,  bishop  of  Vienne — His  life — 
His  poems  on  the  Creation — Original  sin — The  condemnation  of  man 
— The  Deluge — The  passage  of  the  Red  Sea — The  praise  of  virginity 
— Comparison  of  the  three  first  with  the  Paradise  Lost  of  Milton — 
Fortunatus,  bishop  of  Poictiers — His  life — His  relations  with  Saint 
Radegonde — His  poems— Their  character — First  origin  of  French 
literature. 

I  mentioned  in  our  last  lecture  that  we  should  now  occupy 
ourselves  with  the  wrecks  of  profane  literature,  scattered  here 
and  there,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century,  amidst  ser- 
mons, legends,  theological  dissertations,  and  escaping  from  the 
universal  triumph  of  sacred  literature.  I  shall,  perhaps,  be  a 
little  embarrassed  with  my  promise,  and  with  this  word  profane, 
which  I  have  applied  to  the  works  of  which  I  mean  to  speak. 
It  seems  to  say,  in  fact,  that  their  authors  or  their  subjects  are 
of  a  lay  character,  that  they  belong  not  to  the  religious  sphere. 
Yet,  see  the  names  of  the  writings,  and  of  the  authors.  There 
are  two  prose  writers,  and  two  poets :  the  prose  writers  are 
Gregory  of  Tours,  and  Fre'de'gaire ;  the  poets,  Saint  Avitus, 
and  Fortunatus.  Of  these  four  men,  three  were  bishops: 
Gregory  at  Tours,  Saint  Avitus  at  Vienne,  and  Fortunatus  at 
Poictiers ;  all  three  were  canonized  ;  the  fourth,  Fredegaire, 
was  probably  a  monk.  With  regard  to  the  persons,  there  can 
scarcely  be  anything  less  profane  ;  assuredly  they  belong  to 
sacred  literature.  As  regards  the  works  themselves,  that  of 
Gregory  of  Tours  bears  the  title  of  Ecclesiastical  History  of 
the  Franks  ;  that  of  Frddegaire  is  a  simple  chronicle ;  the 
poems  of  Saint  Avitus  turn  upon  the  Creation,  Original  Sin, 
the  Expulsion  from  Paradise,  the  Deluge,  the  Passage  of  the 
Red  Sea,  the  Praise  of  Virginity ;  and  although  in  those  of 
Fortunatus  many  treat  of  the  incidents  of  a  worldly  life,  as 
the  marriage  of  Sigebert  and  Brunehault,  the  departure  of 


356  HISTORY   OF 

queen  Galsuinthe,  &c,  still  the  greater  part  relate  to  religious 
events  or  interests,  as  the  dedications  of  cathedrals,  the  praise 
of  saints  or  bishops,  the  feasts  of  the  church,  &c,  so  that,  to 
judge  by  appearances,  the  subjects  as  well  as  the  authors  enter 
into  sacred  literature,  and  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing  to 
which  the  name  of  profane  can  be  suitable . 

I  might  easily  allege  that  some  of  these  writers  were  not 
always  ecclesiastics ;  that  Fortunatus,  for  example,  for  a  long 
time  lived  a  layman ;  that  many  of  his  poems  date  from  this 
period  of  his  life.  It  is  not  certain  that  Fredegaire  was  a 
monk.  Gregory  of  Tours  formally  expressed  his  intention 
.j>f  mixing  the  sacred  and  the  profane  in  his  history.  But 
these  would  be  poor  reasons.  I  had  far  rather  admit  that,  in 
some  respects,  the  works  I  intend  to  speak  of  at  present  belong 
to  sacred  literature ;  and  still  I  maintain  what  I  have  said  ; 
they  belong  to  profane  literature  ;  they  bore  its  character  in 
more  than  one  respect,  and  they  should  bear  its  name.  And 
here  is  the  reason : 

I  have  just  passed  before  you  the  two  principal  kinds  of  the 
sacred  literature  of  this  epoch,  on  one  hand  sermons,  on  the 
other,  legends.  Nothing  of  this  kind  had  existed  in  antiquity  ; 
neither  the  Greek  nor  Latin  literature  furnished  a  model  ol 
similar  compositions.  They  took  their  rise  from  Christianity 
— from  the  religious  doctrines  of  the  age ;  they  were  original ; 
they  constituted  a  new  and  truly  religious  literature,  for  it  had 
no  impress  of  ancient  literature,  of  the  profane  world,  neither 
in  form  nor  groundwork. 

The  works  of  which  I  am  about  to  speak  are  of  another 
nature :  the  authors  and  the  subjects  are  religious,  but  the 
character  of  the  compositions,  the  manner  in  which  they  are  con- 
ceived and  executed,  belong  not  to  the  new  religious  literature ; 
the  influence  of  pagan  antiquity  is  clearly  shown  in  them ; 
we  incessantly  find  there  the  imitation  of  the  Greek  or  Latin 
writers ;  it  is  visible  in  the  turn  of  the  imagination  ;  in  the 
forms  of  the  language ;  it  is  sometimes  direct  and  avowed. 
This  is  nothing  like  that  truly  new  Christian  mind,  foreign, 
even  hostile,  to  all  ancient  recollections,  which  is  visible  in  the 
sermons  and  legends ;  here,  on  the  contrary,  and  even  in  the 
most  religious  subjects,  one  feels  the  traditions,  the  intellectual 
customs  of  the  pagan  world,  a  certain  desire  to  be  connected 
with  profane  literature,  to  preserve  and  reproduce  its  merits. 
It  is  hence  that  the  name  is  applied  correctly  to  the  works  of 
which  I  speak,  and  that  they  form  in  the  literature  from  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FEANCE.  357 

sixth  to  the  eighth  century  a  separate  class,  which,  in  a  mea- 
sure, unites  the  two  epochs,  the  two  societies,  and  claims  espe- 
cial inquiry. 

Let  us  pass  in  review  the  four  writers  I  have  just  named . 
we  shall  recognize  this  characteristic  in  their  writings. 

I  begin  by  the  prose  writers,  and  by  Gregory  of  Tours,  in. 
contestably  the  most  celebrated. 

You  will  recollect  whether  historical  compositions  had  fallen 
in  the  Roman  empire :  high  history,  the  poetical,  political, 
philosophical  history,  that  of  Livy,  that  of  Polybius,  and  that 
of  Tacitus,  had  equally  vanished ;  they  could  only  keep  a 
register,  more  or  less  exact,  more  or  less  complete,  of  events 
and  men,  without  retracing  their  concatenation  or  moral  cha- 
racter, without  uniting  them  to  the  life  of  the  state,  without 
seeking  therein  the  emotions  of  the  drama,  or  of  the  true 
epopee.  History,  in  a  word,  was  no  more  than  a  chronicle. 
The  last  Latin  historians,  Lampridius,  Vopiscus,  Eutropius, 
Ammianus  Marcellinus  himself,  are  all  mere  chroniclers. 
The  chronicle  is  the  last  form  under  which  history  presents 
itself  in  the  profane  literature  of  antiquity. 

It  is  likewise  under  this  form  that  it  re-appears  in  the  rising 
Christian  literature ;  the  first  Christian  chroniclers,  Gregory 
of  Tours  among  others,  did  nothing  but  imitate  and  perpetuate 
their  pagan  predecessors. 

George  Florentius,  who  took  the  name  of  Gregory  from  his 
great  grandfather,  bishop  of  Langres,  was  born  on  the  3d  of 
November,  539,  in  Auvergne,  in  the  bosom  of  one  of  those 
families  which  called  themselves  senatorial,  and  which  formed 
the  decaying  aristocracy  of  the  country.  The  one  to  which 
he  belonged  was  noble  in  the  civil  and  the  religious  order :  he 
had  many  illustrious  bishops  for  ancestors  and  relations,  and 
he  was  descended  from  a  senator  of  Bourges,  Vettius  Epaga- 
tus,  one  of  the  first  and  most  glorious  martyrs  of  Christianity 
in  Gaul.  It  appears  (and  this  fact  is  so  commonly  met  with 
in  the  history  of  celebrated  men,  that  it  becomes  matter  of 
suspicion),  it  appears  that  from  his  infancy,  his  intellectual  and 
pious  tendencies,  he  attracted  the  attention  of  all  around  him, 
and  that  he  was  brought  up  with  particular  care  as  the  hope 
of  his  family  and  of  the  church,  among  others,  by  his  uncle, 
Saint  Nizier,  bishop  of  Lyons,  Saint  Gal,  bishop  of  Clermont, 
and  Saint  Avitus,  his  successor.  He  had  very  ill  health,  and, 
already  ordained  deacon,  he  made  a  journey  to  Tours,  in 
the  hope  of  being  cured  at  the  tomb  of  Saint  Martin.     He  was 

30 


358  *  HISTORY    OF 

actually  cured,  and  he  returned  to  his  country.  We  find  him, 
in  573,  at  the  court  of  Sigebert  I.,  king  of  Austrasia,  to  whom 
Auvergne  belonged.  He  received  news  that  the  clergy  and 
people  of  Tours,  doubtless  struck  with  his  merits  during  the 
sojourn  which  he  had  made  among  them,  had  just  elected  him 
bishop.  After  some  hesitation,  he  consented,  was  consecrated 
onthe22d  of  August  by  the  bishop  of  Reims,  and  immediately 
repaired  to  Tours,  where  he  passed  the  rest  of  his  life. 

He,  however,  often  left  it ;  and  even  on  affairs  foreign  to 
those  of  the  church.  Gontran,  king  of  Burgundy,  and  Chil- 
debert  II.  king  of  Austrasia,  employed  him  as  a  negotiator  in 
their  long  quarrels  ;  we  find  him  in  585  and  in  588,  travelling 
from  one  court  to  another  to  reconcile  the  two  kings.  He 
appeared  likewise  at  the  council  of  Paris,  held  in  577,  to 
judge  Pretextat,  archbishop  of  Rouen,  whom  Chilper'c  and 
Fr6degonde  wished  to  expel,  and  whom  in  fact  they  did  expel 
from  his  diocese. 

In  his  various  missions,  and  especially  at  the  council  of 
Paris,  Gregory  of  Tours  conducted  himself  with  more  inde- 
pendence, good  sense,  and  equity,  than  was  evinced  by  many 
other  bishops.  Doubtless,  he  was  credulous,  superstitious, 
devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  clergy  :  still  few  ecclesiastics  of 
his  time  had  a  devotion,  I  will  not  say  as  enlightened,  but  less 
blind,  and  kept  to  so  reasonable  a  line  of  conduct  in  what  con- 
cerned  the  church. 

In  592,  according  to  his  biographer,  Odo  of  Cluny,  who 
wrote  his  life  in  the  tenth  century,  he  made  a  journey  to 
Rome  to  see  pope  Gregory  the  Great.  The  fact  is  doubtful, 
and  of  little  interest :  still  the  account  of  Odo  of  Cluny  con- 
tains a  rather  piquant  anecdote,  and  one  which  proves  what  a 
high  estimation  Gregory  and  his  contemporary  were  held  in 
at  the  tenth  century.  He  was,  as  I  have  said,  remarkably 
weak  and  puny. 

"  Arrived  in  the  presence  of  the  pontiff,"  says  his  biogra- 
phers, "  he  kneeled  and  prayed.  The  pontiff,  who  was  of  a 
wise  and  deep  mind,  admired  within  himself  the  secret,  dis- 
pensations of  God,  who  had  placed  so  many  divine  graces  in 
so  small  and  puny  a  body.  The  bishop,  internally  advised, 
by  the  will  on  high,  of  the  thought  of  the  pontiff,  arose,  and 
regarding  him  with  a  tranquil  air,  said  to  him :  « It  is  the  Lord 
who  makes  us,  and  not  ourselves  ;  it  is  the  same  with  the 
great  and  with  the  small.'  The  holy  pope  seeing  that  he 
thus  answered  to  his  thought,  conceived  a  great  veneration 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  859 

for  him,  and  took  so  much  to  heart  the  dignifying  of  the  see 
of  Tours,  that  he  presented  a  chair  of  gold  to  it,  which  is  still 
preserved  in  that  church."1 

Close  upon  his  return  from  his  journey  to  Rome,  if  it  is 
true  that  he  made  one,  Gregory  died  at  Tours,  the  17th  of 
November,  593,  very  much  regretted  in  his  diocese,  and  cele- 
brated throughout  western  Christendom,  where  his  works 
were  already  spread.  That  which  interests  us  most  in  the 
present  day  was  certainly  not  at  that  time  the  most  ardently 
sought  for.  He  composed,  1st,  a  treatise  of  the  Glory  of  the 
Martyrs,  a  collection  of  legends,  in  one  hundred  and  seven 
chapters,  devoted  to  the  recital  of  the  miracles  of  martyrs  ; 
2.  A  treatise  on  the  Glory  of  the  Confessors,  in  one  hundred 
and  twelve  chapters  ;  3.  A  collection,  entitled,  Lives  of  the 
Fathers,  in  twenty  chapters,  and  which  contains  the  history 
of  twenty -two  saints,  of  both  sexes,  of  the  Gaulish  church  ; 
4.  A  treatise  on  the  Miracles  of  Saint  Julianus,  bishop  of 
Brioude,  in  fifty  chapters ;  5.  A  treatise  on  the  Miracles  of 
Saint  Martin  of  Tours,  in  four  books  ;  T3.  A  treatise  on  the 
Miracles  of  Saint  Andrew.  These  were  the  writings  which 
rendered  his  name  so  popular.  They  have  no  distinguishing 
merit  amid  the  crowd  of  legends,  and  nothing  which  requires 
us  to  stop  at  them. 

The  great  work  of  the  bishop  of  Tours,  that  which  has 
brought  his  name  down  to  us,  is  his  Ecclesiastical  History  of 
the  Franks.  The  mere  title  of  the  book  is  remarkable,  for  il 
points  out  its  character  to  be  at  once  civil  and  religious ;  the 
author  did  not  wish  to  write  a  history  of  the  church  merely, 
nor  of  the  Franks  alone ;  he  thought  that  the  destinies  of  the 
laity  and  those  of  the  clergy  should  not  be  separated. 

He  says,  "  I  shall  indiscriminately  combine,  and  without 
any  other  order  than  that  of  time,  the  virtues  of  the  saints  and 
the  disasters  of  the  people.  I  am  not  of  opinion  that  it  should 
be  regarded  as  unreasonable  to  mix  the  felicities  of  the  blessed 
with  the  calamities  of  the  miserable  in  the  account,  not  for 
the  convenience  of  the  writer,  but  in  order  to  conform  with 
the  progress  of  events  ....  Eusebius,  Severus,  Jerome,  and 
Orosius,  have  mixed  up  in  like  manner  in  their  chronicles, 
the  wars  of  kings  and  the  virtues  of  martyrs."8 

1  Vita  S.  Gregorii,  &c,  by  Odo,  abbot  of  Cluny,  §  24. 
'Gregory  of  Tours,  vol.  i.,  p.  39,  in  my  Collection  des  Miutoiret  sin 
F  Histoire  de  France. 


360  HISTORY    OF 

I  shall  have  recourse  to  no  other  testimony  than  that  of 
Gregory  of  Tours  himself,  for  distinguishing  in  his  work  that 
influence  of  ancient  literature,  that  mixture  of  profane  and 
sacred  letters,  which  I  pointed  out  at  the  beginning.  He  pro- 
tests his  contempt  for  all  pagan  traditions  ;  he  eagerly  repudi- 
ates all  heritage  of  the  world  in  which  they  reigned. 

" I  no  not  occupy  myself,"  he  says,  "with  the  flight  of 
Saturn,  nor  the  rage  of  Juno,  nor  the  adulteries  of  Jupiter ; 
I  despise  all  such  things  which  go  to  ruin,  and  apply  myself 
far  rather  to  Divine  things,  to  the  miracles  of  the  gospel."1 

And  elsewhere,  in  the  Preface  of  his  history,  we  read  :— 

"  The  cultivation  of  letters  and  the  liberal  sciences  were 
declining,  were  perishing  in  the  cities  of  Gaul,  amidst  the 
good  and  evil  actions  which  were  then  committed ;  while  the 
barbarians  abandoned  themselves  to  their  ferocity,  and  the 
kings  to  their  fury,  while  the  churches  were  alternately  en- 
riched by  pious  men,  and  robbed  by  the  infidels,  we  find  no 
grammarian  able  in  the  art  of  logic,  who  undertook  to  de- 
scribe these  things  either  in  prose  or  verse.  Many  men 
accordingly  groan,  saying  -  <  Unhappy  are  we  !  the  study  oi 
letters  perishes  among  us,  and  we  find  no  person  who  can 
describe  in  his  writings  present  facts.'  Seeing  this,  I  have 
thought  it  advisable  to  preserve,  although  in  an  uncultivated 
language,  the  memory  of  past  things,  in  order  that  future  men 
may  know  tnem."2 

What  does  the  writer  lament  ?  the  fall  of  the  liberal  studies, 
of  the  liberal  sciences,  of  grammar,  of  logic.  There  is  no- 
thing Christian  there  ;  the  Christian  never  thought  of  them. 
On  the  contrary,  when  the  mere  Christian  spirit  dominated, 
men  scorned  what  Gregory  calls  the  liberal  studies;  they 
called  them  profane  studies. 

It  is  the  ancient  literature  which  the  bishop  regrets,  and 
which  he  wishes  to  imitate  as  far  as  his  weak  talent  will 
allow  him  ;  it  is  that  which  he  admires,  and  which  he  flatters 
himself  with  the  hope  of  continuing. 

You  see  here  the  profane  character  breaks  through.  No- 
thing is  wanting  to  this  work  to  place  it  in  sacred  literature  : 
it  bears  the  name  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  it  is  full  of  the 
religious  doctrines,  traditions,  the  affairs  of  the  Church.    And 


i  Article  upon  Greg,  of  Tours,  vol.  i.,  p.  22,  in  my  Collection 
*  Art.  on  Greg,  of  Tours,  vol.  i.,  p.  23,  in  my  Collection. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  361 

still  civil  affairs  likewise  find  a  place  in  it,  and  it  is  a  chroni- 
cle very  like  the  last  of  the  pagan  chronicles ;  and  respect 
and  regret  for  pagan  literature,  as  formally  expressed  in  it, 
with  the  design  of  imitating  it. 

Independently  of  the  narrative,  the  book  is  very  curious 
from  the  double  character  which  unites  it  to  the  two  societies, 
and  marks  the  transition  from  one  to  the  other.  As  to  the 
rest,  there  is  no  art  of  composition,  no  order ;  even  the  chro- 
nological order,  which  Gregory  promises  to  follow,  is  inces 
santly  forgotten  and  interrupted.  It  is  merely  the  work  of  a 
man  who  has  collected  all  he  has  heard  said,  all  that  passed 
in  his  time,  traditions  and  events  of  every  kind,  and  has  in- 
serted them,  good  and  bad,  in  a  single  narration.  The  same 
enterprise  was  executed,  and  in  the  same  spirit,  at  the  end  of 
the  eleventh  century,  by  a  Norman  monk,  Orderic  Vital. 
Like  Gregory  of  Tours,  Orderic  collected  all  the  recollec- 
tions, all  facts,  both  lay  and  religious,  which  came  within  his 
knowledge,  and  inserted  them  promiscuously,  connected  by  a 
small  thread,  and,  to  complete  the  resemblance,  he  also  gave 
his  work  the  title  of  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Normandy.  I 
shall  speak  minutely  of  it  when  we  arrive  at  the  civilization 
of  the  eleventh  century  ;  I  merely  wished  here  to  point  out 
the  analogy.  The  work  of  the  bishop  of  Tours,  precisely  by 
reason  of  this  shadow  of  ancient  literature,  which  we  may 
catch  a  glimpse  of  in  the  distance,  is  superior  to  that  of  the 
Norman  monk.  Although  the  Latin  is  very  corrupt,  the 
composition  very  defective,  and  the  style  undignified,  it  has 
still  some  merit  in  the  narration,  some  movement,  some  truth 
of  imagination,  and  a  rather  acute  knowledge  of  men.  It  is, 
upon  the  whole,  the  most  instructive  and  amusing  chronicle 
of  the  three  centuries.  It  begins  at  the  year  377,  at  tho 
death  of  Saint  Martin,  and  stops  in  591. 

Fredegaire  continued  it.  He  was  a  Burgundian,  probably 
a  monk,  and  lived  in  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century.  This 
is  all  that  is  known  of  him,  and  even  his  name  is  doubtful. 
His  work  is  very  inferior  to  that  of  Gregory  of  Tours  ;  it  is  a 
general  chronicle,  divided  into  five  books,  and  commences  at 
the  creation  of  the  world.  The  fifth  book  only  is  curious ;  it 
is  there  that  the  narration  of  Gregory  of  Tours  is  taken  up, 
and  continued  up  to  641.  This  continuation  is  of  no  value 
except  for  the  information  which  it  contains,  and  because  it 
is  almos*  the  only  work  there  is  upon  the  same  epoch.     For 


362  HISTORY   OF 

the  rest,  it  has  no  literary  merit,  and,  except  two  passage^ 
contains  no  picture  the  least  detailed,  nor  does  it  cast  any 
light  upon  society  and  manners.  Fredegaire  himself  was 
struck,  I  Will  not  say  with  the  mediocrity  of  his  work,  bui 
with  the  intellectual  decay  of  his  time. 

"  We  can  only  draw  with  trouble,"  says  he,  "  from  a 
source  which  does  not  still  run.  Now  the  world  ages,  and 
the  force  of  mind  deadens  in  us  :  no  man  in  the  present  age 
is  equal  to  the  orators  of  past  times,  and  no  one  dare  even  pre- 
tend to  emulate  them."1 

The  distance  between  Gregory  of  Tours  and  Fredegaire 
is,  in  fact,  great.  In  the  one,  we  still  feel  the  influence,  and, 
as  it  were,  the  breath  of  Latin  literature  ;  we  recognize  some 
traces,  some  tinges  of  a  taste  for  science  and  elegance  in  mind 
and  manners.  In  Fredegaire  all  recollection  of  the  Roman 
world  has  vanished ;  he  is  a  barbarous,  ignorant,  and  coarse 
monk,  whose  thought,  like  his  life,  is  inclosed  within  the  walls 
of  his  monastery. 

From  the  prose  writers  let  us  pass  to  the  poets  ;  they  are 
worthy  of  our  attention. 

I  just  now  called  to  your  recollection  what  had  been  the 
last  state,  the  last  form  of  history,  in  Latin  literature,  from 
the  third  to  the  fifth  century.  Without  falling  quite  so  low, 
the  decay  of  poetry  was  profound.  All  great  poetry  had  dis- 
appeared, that  is,  all  epic,  dramatic,  or  lyrical  poetry  ;  the 
epopee,  the  drama,  and  the  ode,  those  glories  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  were  not  even  aimed  at.  The  only  kinds  still  slightly 
cultivated,  were  :  1,  didactic  poetry,  sometimes  taking  that 
philosophic  tone,  of  which  Lucretius  gave  the  model,  and 
more  frequently  directed  towards  some  material  object,  the 
chase,  fishing,  &c.  ;  2,  descriptive  poetry,  the  school  of  which 
Ausonius  is  the  master,  and  in  which  are  found  numerous 
narrow  but  elegant  minds ;  3,  lastly,  occasional  poetry, 
epigrams,  epitaphs,  madrigals,  epithalamiums,  inscriptions,  all 
that  kind  of  versification,  sometimes  in  mockery,  sometimes 
..i  praise,  whose  only  object  is  to  draw  some  momentary 
amusement  from  passing  events.  This  was  all  that  remained 
of  the  poetry  of  antiquity. 

The  same  kinds,  the  same  characteristics,  appear  in  the 
«emi-profane,  and  the  semi-Christian  poetry  of  this  epoch. 


1  Preface  to  Fredegaire,  vol.  ii.,  p.  164,  of  ray  Collection 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FKANCE.  363 

In  my  opinion,  the  most  distinguished  of  all  the  Christian 
poets  from  the  sixth  to  ihe  eighth  century,  although  he  may 
not  be  the  most  talked  of,  is  Saint  Avitus,  bishop  of  Vienne. 
He  was  born  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  like 
Gregory  of  Tours,  of  a  senatorial  family  in  Auvergne.  Epis- 
copacy was  there  a  kind  of  inheritance,  for  he  was  the  fourth 
generation  of  bishops ;  his  father  Isique  preceded  him  in  the 
see  of  Vienne.  Alcimus  Ecdicius  Avitus  mounted  it  in  490, 
and  occupied  it  until  the  5th  of  February,  525,  the  time  of 
his  death.  During  all  that  period,  he  played  an  important 
part  in  the  Gaulish  church,  intervened  in  events  of  somt 
importance,  presided  at  many  councils,  among  others,  at  that 
of  Epaone  in  517,  and  especially  took  a  very  active  part  in 
the  struggle  between  the  Arians  and  the  orthodox.  He  was 
the  chief  of  the  orthodox  bishops  of  the  east  and  south  of 
Gaul.  As  Vienne  belonged  to  the  Burgundian  Arians,  Saint 
Avitus  had  often  to  struggle  in  favor  of  orthodoxy,  not  only 
against  his  theological  adversaries,  but  also  against  the  civil 
power ;  he  got  out  of  it  happily  and  wisely,  respecting  and 
managing  the  masters  of  the  country  without  ever  abandoning 
his  opinion.  The  conference  which  he  had  at  Lyons,  in  499, 
with  some  Arian  bishops  in  presence  of  king  Gondebald, 
proved  his  firmness  and  his  prudence.  It  is  to  him  that  the 
return  of  king  Sigismond  to  the  bosom  of  orthodoxy  is  attri- 
buted. However  this  may  be,  it  is  as  a  writer,  and  not  as  a 
bishop,  that  we  have  to  consider  him  at  present. 

Although  much  of  what  he  wrote  is  lost,  a  large  number  of 
his  works  remains ;  a  hundred  letters  on  the  events  of  his 
times,  some  homilies,  some  fragments  of  theological  treatises, 
and  lastly,  his  poems.  Of  these  there  are  six,  all  in  hexa- 
meter verses.  1.  Upon  the  Creation,  in  325  verses;  2. 
Upon  Original  Sin,  in  423  verses ;  3.  On  the  Judgment  of 
God  and  the  Expulsion  from  Paradise,  435  verses ;  4.  Upon 
the  Deluge,  658  verses ;  5.  On  the  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea, 
719  verses;  6.  In  praise  of  Virginity,  666  verses.  The  first 
three,  The  Creation,  Original  Sin,  and  The  Judgment  of 
God,  together  form  a  triad,  and  may  be  considered  as  three 
parts  of  one  poem,  that  one  might — indeed,  that  one  ought  to 
call,  to  speak  correctly,  Paradise  Lost.  It  is  not  by  the  subject 
alone  this  work  recalls  to  mind  that  of  Milton ;  the  resem- 
blance in  some  parts  of  the  general  conception,  and  in  some  of 
the  more  important  details,  is  striking.  It  does  not  follow 
that  Milton  was  acquainted  with  the  poems  of  Saint  Avitus  ; 


364  HISTORY   OF 

doubtless,  nothing  proves  the  contrary ;  they  were  published 
at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  classical 
and  theological  learning  of  Milton  was  very  great,  but  it  is  of 
little  importance  to  his  glory  whether  or  not  he  was  acquainted 
with  them.  He  was  one  of  those  who  imitate  when  they 
please,  for  they  invent  when  they  choose,  and  they  invent 
even  while  imitating.  However  it  may  be,  the  analogy  of  the 
two  poems  is  a  rather  curious  literary  fact,  and  that  of  Saint 
Avitus  deserves  the  honor  of  being  closely  compared  with 
that  of  Milton. 

The  first  part,  entitled,  Of  the  Creation,  is  essentially  de- 
scriptive ;  the  descriptive  poetry  of  the  sixth  century  appears 
there  in  all  its  development.  It  singularly  resembles  the  de- 
scriptive poetry  of  our  time,  the  school,  of  which  the  abb6 
Delille  is  the  chief,  that  we  have  seen  so  flourishing,  and 
which  at  present  scarcely  counts  a  few  languishing  inheritors. 
The  essential  characteristic  of  this  kind  is  to  excel  in  con- 
quering difficulties  which  are  not  worth  being  conquered,  to 
describe  what  has  no  need  of  being  described,  and  thus  to 
arrive  at  a  rather  rare  literary  merit,  without  it  resulting 
in  any  truly  poetical  effect.  There  are  some  objects  which 
it  is  sufficient  to  name,  occasions  in  which  it  is  sufficient  to 
name  the  objects,  in  order  that  poetry  may  take  rise,  and  the 
imagination  be  struck ;  a  word,  a  comparison,  an  epithet, 
place  them  vividly  before  one's  eyes.  Descriptive  poetry, 
such  as  we  know  it,  is  not  content  with  this  result :  it  is 
scientific  more  than  picturesque ;  it  troubles  itself  less  with 
making  objects  seen,  than  with  making  them  known ;  it 
minutely  observes,  and  surveys  them  as  a  designer,  as  an 
anatomist,  is  intent  upon  enumerating  them,  upon  displaying 
every  part  of  them;  and  this  being  the  fact,  that  which, 
simply  named  or  designated  by  a  single  stroke,  by  a  general 
image,  would  be  real  and  visible  to  the  imagination,  ap- 
pears only  decomposed,  cut  up,  dissected,  destroyed.  This  is 
the  radical  vice  of  modern  descriptive  poetry,  ani  the  trace 
of  it  is  imprinted  in  its  happiest  works.  It  is  found  in  that 
of  the  sixth  century ;  the  greater  part  of  the  descriptions  of 
Saint  Avitus  have  the  same  fault,  the  same  character. 

God  works  at  the  creation  of  man :  "  He  places  the  head 
on  the  most  elevated  place,  and  adapts  the  countenance, 
pierced  with  seven  outlets,  to  the  wants  of  the  intellect.  From 
thence  are  exercised  the  senses  of  smell,  hearing,  sight,  and 
teste  :  that  of  touch  is  the  only  sense  which  feels  and  judges 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FEANCE.  363 

oy  the  whole  body,  and  whose  energy  is  spread  through  all 
its  members.  The  flexible  tongue  is  attached  to  the  roof  of 
the  mouth,  so  that  the  voice,  driven  into  this  cavity  as  if 
struck  by  a  bow,  resounds  with  various  modulations  through 
the  moved  air.  From  the  humid  chest,  placed  before  the 
body,  extend  the  robust  arms  with  the  ramifications  of  the 
hands.  After  the  stomach  comes  the  belly,  which  upon  each 
side  surrounds  the  vital  organs  with  a  soft  envelopment.  Be. 
low,  the  body  is  divided  into  two  thighs,  in  order  to  walk  more 
easily  by  an  alternate  movement.  Behind,  and  below  the 
occiput,  descends  the  nape  of  the  neck,  which  everywhere 
distributes  its  innumerable  nerves.  Lower  and  on  the  inside 
are  placed  the  lungs,  which  must  be  separated  by  a  light  air, 
and  which,  by  a  strong  breath,  alternately  receive  and  re- 
turn it."1 

Are  we  not  in  the  workshop  of  a  mechanic  ?  are  we  not 
present  at  that  slow  and  successive  labor  which  announces 
science  and  excludes  life  ?  In  this  description,  there  is  great 
accuracy  of  facts,  the  structure  of  the  human  body  and  the 
agency  of  the  various  organs  are  very  faithfully  explained 
everything  is  there,  except  man  and  the  creation. 

It  would  be  easy  to  find,  in  modern  descriptive  poetry,  per- 
fectly analogous  passages. 

Do  not  suppose,  however,  that  there  is  nothing  but  things 
of  this  kind,  and  that,  even  in  this  description  of  poetry,  Saint 
Avitus  has  always  executed  as  badly  as  this.  This  book 
contains  many  of  the  most  happy  descriptions,  many  most 
poetical,  those  especially  which  trace  the  general  beauties  of 
nature,  a  subject  far  more  within  the  reach  of  descriptive  po- 
etry, much  better  adapted  to  its  means.  I  will  quote,  for  an 
example,  the  description  of  Paradise,  of  the  garden  of  Eden, 
and  I  will  at  the  same  time  place  before  you  that  of  Milton, 
universally  celebrated. 

"  Beyond  India,  where  the  world  commences,  where  it  is 
said  that  the  confines  of  heaven  and  earth  meet,  is  an  elevated 
retreat,  inaccessible  to  mortals,  and  closed  with  eternal  barri- 
ers, ever  since  the  author  of  the  first  crime  was  driven  out 
alter  his  fall,  and  the  guilty  saw  themselves  justly  expelled 
their  happy  dwelling.  .  .  .  No  changes  of  season  there  bring 
oack  frost ;  there  the  summer  sun  is  not  succeeded  by  the  ice 


i  Poems  of  Avitus,  1,  i.,  De  Initio  Mttndi,  v.  82 — 107 


366  HISTORY   OF 

of  winter  j  while  elsewhere  the  circle  of  the  year  brings  us 
stifling  heat,  or  fields  whitened  by  frost,  the  kindness  of 
Heaven  there  maintains  an  eternal  spring ;  the  tumultuous 
South  wind  penetrates  not  there ;  the  clouds  forsake  an  air 
always  pure,  and  a  heaven  always  serene.  The  soil  has  no 
need  of  rains  to  refresh  it,  and  the  plants  prosper  by  virtue 
of  their  own  dew.  The  earth  is  always  verdant,  and  its 
surface,  animated  by  a  sweet  warmth,  resplendent  with 
beauty.  Herbs  never  abandon  the  hills,  the  trees  never  lose 
their  leaves  ;  and  although  constantly  covered  with  flowers, 
they  quickly  repair  their  strength  by  means  of  their  own  sap. 
Fruits,  which  we  have  but  once  in  the  year,  there  ripen  every 
month  ;  there  the  sun  does  not  wither  the  splendor  of  the  lily  ; 
eo  touch  stains  the  violet ;  the  rose  always  preserves  its 
color  and  graceful  form.  .  .  .  Odoriferous  balm  continually 
runs  from  fertile  branches.  If,  by  chance,  a  slight  wind 
arises,  the  beautiful  forest,  skimmed  by  its  breath,  with  a 
sweet  murmur  agitates  its  leaves  and  flowers,  from  which 
escape  and  spread  afar  the  sweetest  perfumes.  A  clear 
fountain  runs  from  a  source  of  which  the  eye  with  care  pene- 
trates to  the  bottom  ;  the  most  polished  gold  has  no  such  splen 
dor ;  a  crystal  of  frozen  water  attracts  not  so  much  light. 
Emeralds  glitter  on  its  shores  j  every  precious  stone  which  the 
vain  world  extols,  are  there  scattered  like  pebbles,  adorn  the 
fields  with  the  most  varied  colors,  and  deck  them  as  with  a 
natural  diadem." 

Now  see  that  of  Milton  ;  it  is  cut  into  numerous  shreds, 
and  scattered  throughout  the  fourth  book  of  his  poem ;  but  I 
choose  the  passage  which  best  corresponds  to  that  which  I 
have  just  quoted  from  the  bishop  of  Vienne  : 

"  Thus  was  this  place 
A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  view ; 
Groves  whose  rich  trees  wept  odorous  gums  and  balm  ; 
Others  whose  fruit,  burnished  with  golden  rind, 
Hung  amiable,  Hesperian  fables  true, 
If  true,  here  only,  and  of  delicious  taste  : 
Betwixt  them  lawns,  or  level  downs,  and  flocks 
Grazing  the  tender  herb,  were  interpos'd, 
Or  palmy  hillock  ;  or  the  flowery  lap 
Of  some  irriguous  valley,  'spread  her  store, 
Flowers  of  all  hue,  and  without  thorn  the  rose  ; 


l  L.  l.,  De  Initio  Mundi,  v.  211—257. 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  367 

Anotner  side,  umbrageous  grots  and  caves 
Of  cool  recess,  o'er  which  the  mantling  vin«, 
Lays  forth  her  purple  grape,  and  gently  creeps 
Luxuriant ;  meanwhile,  murmuring  waters  fall 
Down  the  slope  hills,  dispers'd,  or  in  a  lake, 
That  to  the  fringed  bank  with  myrtle  crown'd, 
Her  crystal  mirror  holds,  unite  their  streams. 
The  birds  their  quire  apply ;  airs,  vernal  airs, 
Breathing  the  smell  of  field  and  grove,  attune 
The  trembling  leaves,  while  universal  Pan 
Knit  with  the  graces  and  the  hours  in  dance, 
Led  on  the  eternal  spring."1 

The  description  of  Saint  Avitus  is  certainly,  rather  superior 
than  inferior  to  that  of  Milton ;  although  the  first  is  much 
nearer  to  paganism,  he  mixes  far  fewer  mythological  recol- 
lections in  his  pictures :  the  imitation  of  antiquity  is  perhaps 
less  visible,  and  the  description  of  the  beauties  of  nature  Ap- 
pears to  me  at  once  more  varied  and  more  simple. 

In  the  same  book  I  find  a~  description  of  the  overflowing  of 
the  Nile,  which  also  deserves  quotation.  You  know  that,  in 
all  religious  traditions,  the  Nile  is  one  of  the  four  rivers  of 
Paradise ;  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  poet  names  it,  and 
describes  its  annual  inundations. 

"  Whenever  the  river,  by  swelling,  extends  over  its  banks 
and  covers  the  plains  with  its  black  slime,  its  waters  become 
fertile,  heaven  is  calm,  and  a  terrestrial  rain  spreads  on  all 
sides.  Then  Memphis  is  surrounded  with  water,  is  seen  in 
the  midst  of  a  large  gulf,  and  the  navigator  is  seen  upon  his 
fields,  which  are  no  longer  visible.  There  is  no  longer  any 
limit ;  boundaries  disappear  by  the  decree  of  the  river,  which 
equalizes  all  and  suspends  the  labors  of  the  year ;  the  shep- 
herd joyfully  sees  the  fields  which  he  frequents  swallowed 
up;  and  the  fish,  swimming  in  foreign  seas,  frequent  the 
places  where  the  herds  fed  upon  the  verdant  grass.  At  last, 
when  the  water  has  espoused  the  altered  earth  and  has  im- 
pregnated all  its  germs,  the  Nile  recedes,  and  re-collects  its 
scattered  waters  :  the  lake  disappears  ;  it  becomes  a  river, 
returns  to  its  bed,  and  encloses  its  floods  in  the  ancient  dyke 
of  its  banks."2 

Many  features  of  this  description  are  marked  with  faults  of 
style  ;  we  find  many  of  those  labored  comparisons,  those  arti- 
ficial antitheses,  which  he  takes  for  poetry :  "  the  terrestrial 

Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  iv.,  246 — 68.  8  Avitus,  1  i.,  v.  266—281 


868  HISTORY   OF 

rain,"  for  example,  "  the  water  espouses  the  se'i,"  &c.  ;  still 
the  picture  is  not  devoid  of  truth  and  effect.  In  his  poem 
upon  The  Deluge,  Saint  Avitus  has  described  an  analogous 
phenomenon,  but  far  more  vast  and  terrible,  the  fall  of  the 
waters  of  Heaven,  and  the  simultaneous  overflow  of  all  the 
waters  of  tne  earth,  with  much  vigor  and  effect ;  but  the 
length  of  the  passage  forbids  my  quoting  it  to  you. 

In  the  second  book,  entitled,  Of  the  Original  Sin,  the  poet 
follows,  step  by  step,  the  sacred  traditions ;  but  they  do  not 
subdue  his  imagination,  and  he  sometimes  even  elevates  him- 
self to  poetical  ideas,  in  which  he  quits  them  without  posi- 
tively contradicting  them.  Every  one  knows  the  character 
with  which  Milton  has  invested  Satan,  and  the  originality  of 
that  conception  which  has  preserved  in  the  demon  the  grandeur 
of  the  angel,  carrying  down  to  the  pit  of  evil  the  glorious 
traces  of  goodness,  and  thus  shedding,  over  the  enemy  of  God 
and  man,  an  interest,  which,  however,  has  nothing  illegitimate 
or  perverse.  Something  of  this  idea,  or  rather  of  this  inten- 
tion, is  found  in  the  poem  of  Saint  Avitus :  his  Satan  is  by  no 
means  the  demon  of  mere  religious  traditions,  odious,  hideous, 
wicked,  a  stranger  to  all  elevated  or  affectionate  feeling.  He 
has  preserved  in  him  some  traits  of  his  first  state,  a  certain 
moral  grandeur ;  the  instinct  of  the  poet  has  overcome  the 
doctrine  of  the  bishop ;  and  although  his  conception  of  the 
character  of  Satan  is  far  inferior  to  that  of  Milton,  although 
he  could  not  bring  forth  in  it  those  combats  of  the  soul,  those 
fierce  contrasts  which  render  the  work  of  the  English  poet  so 
admirable,  still  his  is  not  devoid  of  originality  and  energy. 
Like  Milton,  he  has  painted  Satan  at  the  time  when  he  enters 
Paradise  and  perceives  Adam  and  Eve  for  the  first  time. 

"  When  he  saw,"  says  he,  "  the  new  creatures  in  a  peaceful 
dwelling,  leading  a  happy  and  cloudless  life,  under  the  law 
which  they  had  received  from  the  Lord,  with  the  empire  of 
the  universe,  and  enjoying,  amidst  delicious  tranquillity,  all 
which  was  subjected  to  them,  the  flash  of  jealousy  raised  a 
sudden  vapor  in  his  soul,  and  his  burning  rage  soon  became 
a  terrible  fire.  It  was  then  not  long  since  He  had  fallen  from 
Heaven,  and  had  hurried  away  with  him,  into  the  low  pit, 
the  troop  attached  to  his  fate.  At  this  thought,  and  reviewing 
his  recent  disgrace  in  his  heart,  it  seemed  t.Tiat  he  had  lost 
more,  since  he  saw  another  possessed  of  such  happiness ;  and 
shame  mixing  itself  with  envy,  he  poured  out  his  angry 
regrets  in  these  words  : 


CIV'LIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  369 

"  '  O  sorrow  !  this  work  of  earth  is  suddenly  raised  before 
as,  and  our  ruin  has  given  birth  to  this  odious  race  !  I, 
Virtue !  I  possessed  heaven,  and  I  am  now  expelled  it,  and 
dust  has  succeeded  to  the  honor  of  angels !  A  little  clay, 
arranged  unaer  a  pitiful  form,  will  here  reign,  and  the  power 
torn  from  us  is  transferred  to  him  !  But  we  have  not  en- 
tirely lost  it ;  the  greatest  portion  thereof  remains ;  we  can 
and  we  know  to  injure.  Let  us  not  delay  then  ;  this  combat 
pleases  me ;  I  will  engage  them  at  their  first  appearance, 
while  their  simplicity,  which  has  as  yet  experienced  no  deceit, 
is  ignorant  of  everything,  and  offers  itself  to  every  blow.  Il 
will  be  easier  to  mislead  them  while  they  are  alone,  before 
they  have  thrown  a  fruitful  posterity  into  the  eternity  of  ages. 
Let  us  not  allow  anything  immortal  to  come  out  of  the  earth ; 
let  us  destroy  the  race  at  its  commencement :  O  that  the  de- 
feat of  its  chief  may  become  the  seed  of  death  ;  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  life  may  give  rise  to  the  pangs  of  death  ;  that  all  may 
be  struck  in  one  ;  the  root  cut,  the  tree  will  never  raise  itself. 
These  are  the  consolations  which  remain  to  me  in  my  fall. 
If  I  cannot  again  mount  to  the  heavens,  they  will  at  least  be 
closed  for  these  creatures  :  it  seems  to  me  less  harsh  to  be 
fallen,  if  the  new  creatures  are  lost  by  a  similar  fall ;  if,  the 
accomplices  of  my  ruin,  they  become  companions  of  my  pun- 
ishment, and  share  with  us  the  fire  which  I  now  catch  a 
glimpse  of.  But,  in  order  to  attract  them  without  difficulty, 
it  is  needful  that  I  myself,  who  have  fallen  so  low,  should 
show  them  the  route  which  T  myself  travelled  over ;  that  the 
same  pride  which  drove  me  from  the  celestial  kingdom,  may 
chase  men  from  the  boundaries  of  Paradise.'  He  thus  spoke, 
and,  heaving  a  sigh,  became  silent."1 

Now  for  the  Satan  of  Milton,  at  the  same  time,  and  in  the 
came  situation  : 


"  0  hell,  what  do  mine  eyes  with  grief  beho.d  : 
Into  our  room  of  bliss,  thus  high  advanc'd, 
Creatures  of  other  mouldy  earth,  born,  perhaps, 
Not  spirits,  yet  to  heavenly  spirits  bright 
Little  inferior  ;  whom  my  thoughts  pursue 
With  wonder,  and  could  love,  so  lively  shines 
In  them  Divine  resemblance,  and  such  grace 
The  hand  that  form'd  them  on  their  shape  hath  pour'd. 


«  Avitus,  1.  ii.,v.  60—117. 


S70  HISTOKY    OF 

Ah,  gentle  pair,  ye  little  think  how  nigh 

Your  change  approaches,  when  all  these  delight* 

Will  vanish,  and  deliver  ye  to  woe  ; 

More  woe,  the  more  your  taste  is  now  of  joy  ; 

Happy,  but  for  so  happy,  ill  secur'd 

Long  to  continue,  and  this  high  seat  your  Heav'n, 

111  fenc'd  for  Heaven  to  keep  out  such  a  foe 

As  now  is  enter'd ;  yet  no  purpos'd  foe 

To  you,  whom  I  could  pity  thus  forlorn, 

Though  I  unpitied :  league  with  you  I  seek, 

And  mutual  amity  so  strait,  so  close, 

That  I  with  you  must  dwell,  or  you  with  me 

Henceforth  ;  my  dwelling  haply  may  not  please, 

Like  this  fair  Paradise,  your  sense  ;  yet  such 

Accept  your  Maker's  work  ;  he  gave  it  me, 

Which  I  as  freely  give :  Hell  shall  unfold, 

To  entertain  you  two,  her  widest  gates, 

And  send  forth  all  her  kings ;  there  will  he  room, 

Not  like  these  narrow  limits,  to  receive 

Your  numerous  offspring ;  if  no  better  place, 

Thank  him  who  puts  me  loath  to  this  revenge 

On  you,  who  wrong  me  not,  for  him  who  wrong'd. 

And  should  I  at  your  harmless  innocence 

Melt  as  I  do,  yet  public  reason  just, 

Honor  and  empire  with  revenge  enlarg'd 

By  conquering  this  new  world,  compels  me  now 

To  do  what  else,  though  damn'd,  I  should  abhor."' 

Here  the  superiority  of  Milton  is  great.  He  gives  to  Satan 
far  more  elevated,  more  impassioned,  more  complex  feelings 
—perhaps  even  too  complex — and  his  words  are  far  more 
eloquent.  Still  there  is  a  remarkable  analogy  between  the 
two  passages ;  and  the  simple  energy,  the  menacing  unity  of 
the  Satan  of  Saint  Avitus,  seems  to  me  to  be  very  effective. 

The  third  book  describes  the  despair  of  Adam  and  Eve 
after  their  fall,  the  coming  of  God,  his  judgment,  and  their 
expulsion  from  Paradise.  You  will  surely  remember  that 
famous  passage  of  Milton,  after  the  judgment  of  God,  when 
Adam  sees  everything  overthrown  around  him,  and  expects 
to  be  driven  out  of  Paradise  ;  he  abandons  himself  to  the 
harshest  rage  against  the  woman  : 

*  Whom  thus  afflicted  when  sad  Eve  beheld, 
Desolate  where  she  sat,  approaching  nigh, 
Soft  words  to  his  fierce  passion  she  assay'd : 
But  her  with  stern  regard  he  thus  repell'd  : 


1  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  iv.,  358 — 392 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  371 

«  Out  of  my  sight,  thou  serpent !  that  name  best    _ 

Befits  thee  with  him  leagued,  thyself  as  false 

And  hateful ;  nothing  wants,  but  that  thy  shape, 

Like  his,  and  color  serpentine,  may  show 

Thy  inward  fraud,  to  warn  all  creatures  from  thee 

Henceforth  ;  least  that  too  heavenly  form  pretended 

To  hellish  falsehood,  snare  them.     But  for  thee 

I  had  persisted  happy  ;  had  not  thy  pride 

And  wandering  vanity,  when  least  was  safe. 

Rejected  my  forewarning,  and  disdained, 

Not  to  be  trusted  ;  longing  to  be  seen, 

Though  by  the  devil  himself:  him  overweening 

To  overreach ;  but  with  the  serpent  meeting, 

Fool'd  and  beguil'd  ;  by  him,  thou,  I  by  thee, 

To  trust  thee  from  my  side,  imagin'd  wise, 

Constant,  mature,  proof  against  all  assaults ; 

And  understood  not  all  was  but  a  show, 

Rather  than  solid  virtue  ;  all  but  a  rib 

Crooked  by  nature,  bent,  as  now  appears, 

More  to  the  part  sinister,  from  me  drawn  ; 

Will  if  thrown  out  as  supernumerary, 

To  my  just  number  found.     0  !  why  did  God, 

Creator  wise,  that  peopled  highest  Heaven 

With  spirits  masculine,  create  at  last 

This  novelty  on  earth,  this  fair  defect 

Of  nature,  and  not  fill  the  world  at  once 

With  men  and  angels,  without  feminine ; 

Or  find  some  other  way  to  generate 

Mankind  ?    This  mischief  had  not  then  befall'n, 

And  more  that  shall  befall ;  innumerable 

Disturbances  on  earth  through  female  snares, 

And  strait  conjunction  with  this  sex."i 

The  same  idea  occurred  to  Saint  Avitus  ;  only  that  it  is  to 
God  himself,  not  to  Eve,  that  Adam  addresses  the  explosion 
of  his  rage : 

"  When  thus  he  saw  himself  condemned,  and  that  the  most 
just  inquiry  had  made  evident  all  his  fault,  he  did  not  hum- 
bly ask  his  pardon  and  pray  ;  he  answered  not  with  shrieks 
and  tears  ;  he  sought  not  to  deter,  with  suppliant  confession, 
the  deserved  punishment ;  already  miserable,  he  invoked  no 
pity.  He  erected  himself,  he  irritated  himself,  and  his  pride 
broke  out  into  insensate  clamors  :  •  It  was  then  to  bring  my 
ruin  that  this  woman  was  united  to  my  fate  1  That  which, 
by  thy  first  law,  thou  hast  given  for  a  dwelling  :  it  is  she  who, 
overcome  herself,  has  conquered  me  with  her  sinister,  coun 


1  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  x.,  863 — 897. 


372  HISTORY   OF 

sels  ;  it  is  she  who  has  persuaded  me  ,o  take  that  fruit  which 
she  herself  already  knew.  She  is  the  source  of  evil ;  from 
her  came  crime.  1  was  credulous ;  but  thou,  Lord,  taught 
me  to  believe  her  by  giving  her  to  me  in  marriage,  in  joining 
me  to  her  by  sweet  knots.  Happy  if  my  life,  at  first  solitary, 
had  always  so  run  on,  if  I  had  never  known  the  ties  of  such 
an  union,  and  the  yoke  of  this  fatal  companion !' 

"  At  this  outburst  of  irritated  Adam,  the  Creator  addressed 
these  severe  words  to  desolate  Eve  :  '  Why,  in  falling,  hast 
drawn  down  thy  unhappy  spouse  ?  Deceitful  woman,  why, 
instead  of  remaining  alone  in  thy  fall,  hast  thou  dethroned  the 
superior  reason  of  the  man  V  She,  full  of  shame,  her  cheeks 
covered  with  a  sorrowful  blush,  said  that  the  serpent  had  per- 
suaded her  to  touch  the  forbidden  fruit."1 

Does  not  this  passage  appear  at  least  equal  to  that  of  Mil- 
ton ?  It  is  even  free  from  the  subtle  details  which  disfigure 
the  latter,  and  diminish  the  progress  of  the  sentiment. 

The  book  terminates  with  the  prediction  of  the  advent  of 
Christ,  who  shall  triumph  over  Satan.  But  with  this  conclu- 
sion  the  poet  describes  the  very  leaving  of  Paradise,  and  these 
last  verses  are,  perhaps,  the  most  beautiful  in  the  poem  : 

"  At  these  words,  the  Lord  clothes  them  both  with  the  skins 
of  beasts,  and  drives  them  from  the  happy  retreat  of  Para- 
dise. They  fall  together  to  the  earth ;  they  enter  upon  the 
desert  world,  and  wander  about  with  rapid  steps.  The  world 
is  covered  with  trees  and  turf:  it  has  green  meadows,  and 
fountains  and  rivers  ;  and  yet  its  face  appears  hideous  to  them 
after  thine,  0  Paradise  !  and  they  are  horror-struck  with  it ; 
and,  according  to  the  nature  of  men,  they  love  better  what 
they  have  lost.  The  earth  is  narrow  to  them  ;  they  do  not 
see  its  limits,  and  yet  they  feel  confined,  and  they  groan. 
Even  the  day  is  dark  to  their  eyes,  and  under  the  clear  sun, 
they  complain  that  the  light  has  disappeared."2 

The  three  other  poems  of  Saint  Avitus,  the  Deluge,  the 
Passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  Praise  of  Virginity,  are  very 
inferior  to  what  I  have  just  quoted ;  still  some  remarkable 
fragments  may  be  found  in  them,  and  certainly  we  have  rea- 
son to  be  astonished  that  a  work  which  contains  such  beau- 
ties should  remain  so  obscure.     But  the  age  of  Saint  Avitua 


1  Avitus,  1.  iii.,  v.  9fi— 112.  2  Ibid.,  v.  195—207. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  373 

is  all  obscure,  and  he  has  fallen  under  the  general  decay  in 
the  midst  of  which  he  lived. 

I  named  a  second  poet,  Fortunatus,  bishop  of  Poictiers. 
He  was  not  of  Gaulish  origin ;  he  was  born  in  T)30,  beyond 
the  Alps,  near  Ceneda,  in  the  Trevisan ;  and  about  565,  a 
little  before  the  great  invasion  of  the  Lombards,  and  the  de- 
solation of  the  north  of  Italy,  he  passed  into  Gaul,  and  stopped 
in  Austrasia  at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  Sigebert  and 
Brunehault,  daughter  of  Athanagilde,  king  of  Spain.  It  ap- 
pears that  he  remained  there  one  or  two  years,  making  epi- 
thalamiums,  laments,  a  court  poet  there,  devoted  to  the  cele- 
bration of  its  adventures  and  pleasures.  We  then  find  him 
at  Tours,  paying  his  devotions  to  Saint  Martin ;  he  was  then 
a  layman.  Saint  Radegonde,  wife  of  Clotaire  I.,  had  just 
retired,  and  founded  a  monastery  of  nuns.  Fortunatus  con- 
nected himself  ^with  her  in  close  friendship,  entered  into 
orders,  and  soon  became  her  chaplain,  and  almoner  of  the 
monastery.  From  this  period,  no  remarkable  incident  of  his 
life  is  known.  Seven  or  eight  years  after  the  death  of  Saint 
Radegonde,  he  was  made  bishop  of  Poictiers,  and  there  died 
at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century,  after  having  long 
celebrated  with  his  verses  all  the  great  men  of  his  age,  and 
having  been  in  assiduous  correspondence  with  all  the  great 
bishops. 

Independently  of  seven  lives  of  saints,  of  some  letters  or 
theological  treatises  in  prose,  of  four  books  of  hexameters  on 
the  life  of  Saint  Martin  of  Tours,  which  are  merely  a  poetical 
version  of  the  life  of  the  same  saint  by  Sulpicius  Severus, 
and  some  trifling  works  which  are  lost,  there  remain  of  him 
two  hundred  and  forty-nine  pieces  of  verse  in  all  kinds  of 
metres,  of  which  two  hundred  and  forty-six  were  collected  by 
himself  in  eleven  books,  and  three  are  separate.  Of  these 
two  hundred  and  forty-nine  pieces,  there  are  fifteen  in  honor 
of  certain  churches,  cathedrals,  oratories,  &c,  composed  at 
the  time  of' their  construction  or  dedication  ;  thirty  epitaphs  ; 
twenty-nine  pieces  to  Gregory  of  Tours,  or  concerning  him ; 
twenty-seven  to  Saint  Radegonde,  or  to  sister  Agnes,  abbess 
of  the  monastery  of  Poictiers,  and  one  hundred  and  forty- 
eight  other  pieces  to  all  sorts  of  persons,  and  upon  all  sorts  of 
subjects. 

The  pieces  addressed  to  Saint  Radegonde,  or  to  the  abbess 
Agnes,  are  incontestably  those  which  best  make  known  and 


374  HISTORY    OF 

characterize  the  turn  of  mind,  and  the  kind  of  poetry,  of  For 
tunatus.     On  these  only  I  shall  dwell. 

One  is  naturally  led  to  attach  to  the  relations  of  such  per 
sons  the  most  serious  ideas,  and  it  is,  in  fact,  under  a  grave 
aspect  that  they  have  been  described  :  it  has  been  mistakenly  ; 
do  not  suppose  that  I  have  here  to  relate  some  strange  anec- 
dote, or  that  his  history  is  subject  to  the  embarrassment  of 
some  scandal.  There  is  nothing  scandalous,  nothing  equivo- 
cal, nothing  which  lends  the  slightest  malignant  conjecture,  to 
be  met  with  in  the  relation  between  the  bishop  and  the  nuns 
of  Poictiers ;  but  they  are  of  a  futility,  of  a  puerility  which 
it  is  impossible  to  overlook,  for  even  the  poems  of  Fortunatus 
are  a  monument  of  them. 

These  are  the  titles  of  sixteen  of  the  twenty,  seven  pieces 
addressed  to  Saint  Radegonde,  or  to  Saint  Agnes  : 

Book  VIII.,  piece  8,  to  Saint  Radegonde  upon  violets. 

"  9,  upon  flowers  put  on  the  altar. 

"  10,  upon  flowers  which  he  sent  her. 

Book   XL,  piece  4,  to  Saint  Radegonde  for  her  to  drink 
wine. 

"  11,  to  the  abbess  upon  flowers. 

"  13,  upon  chestnuts. 

"  14,  upon  milk. 

u  15,  idem. 

"  16,  upon  a  repast. 

"  18,  upon  sloes. 

"  19,  upon  milk  and  other  dainties. 

"  20,  upon  eggs  and  nlums. 

"  22,  upon  a  repast. 

"  23,  idem. 

"  24,  idem. 

«  25,  idem. 

Now  see  some  samples  of  the  pieces  themselves ;  they  prove 
that  the  titles  do  not  deceive  us. 

"  In  the  midst  of  my  fasting,"  writes  he  to  Saint  Radegonde, 
"  thou  sendest  me  various  meats,  and  at  the  sight  of  them  thou 
painest  my  mind  My  eyes  contemplate  what  the  doctor  for- 
bids me  to  use,  and  his  hand  interdicts  what  my  mouth  desires. 
Still  when  thy  goodness  gratifies  us  with  this  milk,  thy  gifts 
surpass  those  of  kings.     Rejoice,  therefore,  I  pray  thee,  like 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  375 

a  good  sister  with  our  pious  mother,  for  at  this  momen  I  have 
the  sweet  pleasure  of  being  at  table."1 

And  elsewhere,  after  having  a  repast :  "  Surrounded  by 
various  delicacies,  and  all  kinds  of  ragouts,  sometimes  I  sleep, 
sometimes  I  eat ;  I  open  my  mouth,  then  I  close  my  eyes, 
and  I  again  eat  of  everything ;  my  mind  was  confused,  be- 
lieve it,  most  dear  ones,  and  I  could  not  easily  either  speak 
with  liberty,  or  write  verses.  A  drunken  man  has  an  uncer- 
tain hand ;  wine  produced  the  same  effect  upon  me  as  upon 
other  drinkers ;  methinks  I  see  the  table  swimming  in  pure 
wine.  However,  as  well  as  I  am  able,  I  have  traced  in  soft 
language  this  little  song  for  my  mother  and  my  sister,  and 
although  sleep  sharply  presses  me,  the  affection  which  1  bear 
for  them  has  inspired  what  the  hand  is  scarcely  in  a  state  to 
write."8 

It  is  not  by  way  of  amusement  that  I  insert  these  singular 
quotations,  which  it  would  be  easy  for  me  to  multiply  j  I  de- 
sire, on  the  one  hand,  to  place  before  your  eyes  a  view  of  the 
manners  of  this  epoch,  which  are  but  little  known  ;  and  on  the 
other,  to  enable  you  to  see,  and,  so  to  speak,  to  touch  with 
your  finger,  the  origin  of  a  kind  of  poetry  which  has  held 
rather  an  important  place  in  our  literature,  of  that  light  and 
mocking  poetry  which,  beginning  with  our  old  fabliaux,  down 
to  Ver-vert,  has  been  pitilessly  exercised  upon  the  weakness 
and  ridiculous  points  of  the  interior  of  monasteries.  Fortu- 
natus,  to  be  sure,  did  not  mean  to  jest ;  actor  and  poet  at  the 
same  time,  he  spoke  and  wrote  very  seriously  to  Saint  Rade- 
gonde  and  the  abbess  Agnes ;  but  the  very  manners  which 
this  kind  of  poetry  took  for  a  text,  and  which  so  long  provoked 
French  fancy,  that  puerility,  that  laziness,  that  gluttony,  as- 
sociated with  the  gravest  relations, — you  see  them  begin  here 
with  the  sixth  century,  and  under  exactly  the  same  traits  with 
those  which  Marot  or  Gresset  lent  to  them  ten  or  twelve  cen- 
turies later. 

However,  the  poems  of  Fortunatus  -have  not  all  of  them 
this  character.  Independently  of  some  beautiful  sacred 
hymns,  one  of  which,  the  Vexilla  Regis,  was  officially  adopt- 
ed by  the  church,*  there  is  in  many  of  these  small  lay  and  reli- 
gious poems  a  good  deal  of  imagination,  of  intehbet,  and 


»  Tertun  Carm.,  1.  xi.,  No.  19 ;  Bib.  Pat,  vol.  v.,  p.  59ft. 
•Ibid.,  No.  24;  ibid. 


376  HISTORY   OF 

animation.  I  shall  only  quote  a  passage  from  an  elegiac  poem 
of  three  hundred  and  seventy-one  verses,  about  the  departure 
of  Galsuinthe,  sister  of  Brunehault,  from  Spain,  her  arrival  in 
France,  her  marriage  with  Chilperic,  and  her  deplorable  end  ; 
I  select  the  lamentations  of  Galsuinthe,  her  mother,  wife  of 
Athanagilde ;  she  sees  her  daughter  about  to  quit  her,  em. 
braces  her,  looks  at  her,  embraces  her  again,  and  cries  : 

"  Spain,  so  full  of  inhabitants,  and  too  confined  for  a  mother, 
land  of  the  sun,  become  a  prison  to  me,  although  thou  extend, 
est  from  the  country  of  Zephyr  to  that  of  the  burning  Eous, 
from  Tyrhenia  to  the  ocean — although  thou  sufficest  for  nu- 
merous nations,  since  my  daughter  is  not  longer  here,  thou  art 
too  narrow  for  me.  Without  thee,  my  daughter,  I  shall  be 
here  as  a  foreigner  and  wanderer,  and,  in  my  native  country, 
at  once  a  citizen  and  an  exile.  I  ask,  what  shall  these  eyes 
look  at  which  everywhere  seek  my  daughter  ?  .  .  .  Whatever 
infant  plays  with  me  will  be  a  punishment ;  thou  wilt  weigh 
upon  my  heart  in  the  embraces  of  another:  let  another  run, 
step,  seat  herself,  weep,  enter,  go  out,  thy  dear  image  will 
always  be  before  my  eyes.  When  thou  shalt  have  quitted 
me,  I  shall  hasten  to  strange  caresses,  and,  groaning,  I  shall 
press  another  face  to  my  withered  breast ;  I  shall  dry  with 
my  kisses  the  tears  of  another  child  ;  I  shall  drink  of  them ; 
and  may  it  please  God  that  I  may  thus  find  some  refreshment 
for  my  devouring  thirst !  Whatever  I  do,  I  shall  be  torment- 
ed, no  remedy  can  console  me ;  I  perish,  O  Galsuinthe,  by 
the  wound  which  comes  to  me  from  thee  !  I  ask  what  dear 
hand  will  dress,  will  ornament  thy  hair  ?  Who,  when  I  shall 
not  be  there,  will  cover  thy  soft  cheeks  with  kisses  ?  Who 
will  warm  thee  in  her  bosom,  who  carry  thee  on  her  knees, 
surround  thee  with  her  arms  ?  Alas !  when  thou  shalt  be 
without  me,  thou  wilt  have  no  mother.  For  the  rest,  my  sad 
heart  charges  thee  at  the  time  of  thy  departure ;  be  happy,  I 
implore  thee ;  but  leave  me :  go :  farewell :  send  through  the 
air  some  consolation  to  thy  impatient  mother ;  and,  if  the 
wind  bears  me  any  news,  let  it  it  be  favorable."1 

The  subtlety  and  affectation  of  bad  rhetoric  are  to  be  found 
in  this  passage  ;  but  its  emotion  is  sincere,  and  the  expression 
ingenious  and  vivid.  Many  pieces  of  Fortunatus  have  the 
same  merits. 


lFortun.  Carm.,  1.  vi.,  No  7  ;  Bib.  Pat,,  vol  x„  p.  562 


CIVILIZATION    IN   FRANCE.  377 

I  shaL  prosecute  this  inquiry  no  further ;  I  think  I  have 
fully  justified  what  I  said  in  commencing :  sacred  literature  is 
not  there ;  the  habits,  and  even  the  metrical  forms  of  the 
dying  pagan  literature,  are  clearly  stamped  upon  them. 
Ausonius  is  more  elegant,  more  correct,  more  licentious  than 
Fortunatus  ;  but,  speaking  literally,  the  bishop  is  a  continua- 
tion of  the  consul ;  Latin  tradition  was  not  dead ;  it  had  passed 
into  the  Christian  society ;  and  here  commences  that  imitation 
which,  amid  the  universal  overthrow,  unites  the  modern  to 
the  ancient  world,  and,  at  a  later  period,  will  play  so  consi- 
derable a  part  in  all  literature. 

We  must  pause :  we  have  just  studied  the  intellectual  state 
of  Frankish  Gaul  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century.  This 
study  completes  for  us  that  of  the  development  of  our  civiliza- 
tion during  the  same  period,  that  is,  under  the  empire  of  the 
Merovingian  kings.  Another  epoch,  stamped  with  the  same 
character,  began  with  the  revolution  which  raised  the  family 
of  the  Pepins  to  the  throne  of  the  Franks.  In  our  next  lec- 
ture I  shall  attempt  to  describe  the  revolution  itself;  and  we 
shall  then  enter  into  the  new  paths  which  it  forced  France  to 
take. 


378  HISTORY    O* 


NINETEENTH  LECTURE. 

The  causes  and  the  character  of  the  revolution  which  substituted  the 
Carlovingians  for  the  Merovingians — Recapitulation  of  the  history  of 
civilization  in  France  under  the  Merovingian  kings — The  Frankish 
state  in  its  relations  with  the  neighboring  nations — The  Frankish  state 
in  its  internal  organization — The  aristocratical  element  prevailed 
in  it,  but  without  entirety  or  regularity — The  state  of  the  Frankish 
church — Episcopacy  prevails  in  it,  but  is  itself  thrown  into  decay — 
Two  new  powers  arise — 1st.  The  Austrasian  Franks — Mayors  of  the 
palace — The  family  of  the  Pepins — 2.  Papacy— Circumstances  fa- 
vorable to  its  progress — Causes  which  drew  and  united  the  Austra- 
sian Franks  to  the  popes — The  conversion  of  the  Germans  beyond  the 
Rhine — Relations  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  missionaries,  on  the  one  hand 
with  the  popes,  on  the  other,  with  the  mayors  of  the  palace  of  Aus- 
trasia — Saint  Boniface — The  popes  have  need  of  the  Austrasian 
Franks  against  the  Lombards — Pepin- le-Bref  has  need  of  the  pope  to 
make  himself  king — Their  alliance  and  the  new  direction  which  it 
impressed  upon  civilization — Conclusion  of  the  first  part  of  the 
course. 

We  have  arrived  at  the  eve  of  a  great  event,  of  the  revolu- 
tion which  threw  the  last  of  the  Merovingians  into  a  cloister, 
and  carried  the  Carlovingians  to  the  throne  of  the  Franks.  It 
was  consummated  in  the  month  of  March,  752,  in  the  semi-lay 
and  semi-ecclesiastical  assembly  held  at  Soissons,  where  Pe- 
pin was  proclaimed  king,  and  consecrated  by  Boniface,  arch- 
bishop of  Mayence.  Never  was  a  revolution  brought  about 
with  less  effort  and  noise  ;  Pepin  possessed  the  power  :  the  fact 
was  converted  into  right ;  no  resistance  was  offered  him  ;  no 
protest  of  sufficient  importance  to  leave  a  trace  in  history. 
Everything  seemed  to  remain  the  same  ;  a  title,  merely,  was 
changed.  Yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  a  great  event 
was  thus  accomplished ;  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this 
change  was  the  indication  of  the  end  of  a  particular  social 
state,  of  the  commencement  of  a  new  state,  a  crisis,  a  verita- 
ble epoch  in  the  history  of  French  civilization. 

It  is  the  crisis  that  I  wish  to  bring  before  you  at  present. 
I  wish  to  recapitulate  the  history  of  civilization  under  the 
Merovingians,  to  indicate  how  it  came  to  end  in  such  a  result, 
»nd  to  represent  the  new  character,  the  new  direction  which 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  379 

it  was  obliged  to  take  under  the  Carlovingians,  by  plainly 
setting  forth  the  transition  and  its  causes. 

Civil  society  and  religious  society  are  evidently  the  two- 
fold subject  of  this  recapitulation.  We  have  studied  them 
seoarately,  and  in  their  relations ;  we  shall  so  study  them  in 
the  period  upon  which  we  are  about  to  enter.  It  is  necessary 
that  we  should  know  exactly  at  what  point  they  had  each  ar- 
rived at  the  crisis  which  now  occupies  us,  and  what  was  their 
reciprocal  situation. 

I  commence  with  civil  society.  From  the  opening  of  this 
course,  we  have  been  speaking  of  the  foundation  of  modern 
states,  and  in  particular  of  the  Frank  state.  We  marked  its 
origin  at  the  reign  of  Clovis  ;  it  is  even  by  concession  that  we 
are  permitted  not  to  go  farther  back,  not  to  go  to  Pharamond. 
Let  it  be  understood,  however,  that  even  in  the  epoch  at  which 
we  have  arrived,  at  the  end  of  the  Merovingian  race,  there 
was  nothing  established  which  the  Franko-Gaulish  society 
had,  nothing  invested  with  a  somewhat  stable  and  general 
form,  that  no  principle  prevailed  in  it  so  completely  as  to 
regulate  it ;  that  neither  within  nor  without  did  the  Frankish 
•state  exist ;  that  in  Gaul  there  was  no  state  at  all. 

What  do  we  mean  by  a  State  ?  a  certain  extent  of  territory 
having  a  determinate  centre,  fixed  limits,  inhabited  by  men 
who  have  a  common  name,  and  live  involved,  in  certain 
respects,  in  the  same  destiny.  Nothing  like  this  existed  in 
.he  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  in  what  we  now  call  France. 

You  know  how  many  kingdoms  had  there  alternately  ap- 
peared and  disappeared.  The  kingdoms  of  Metz,  Soissons, 
Orleans,  Paris,  had  given  place  to  the  kingdoms  of  Neustria, 
Austrasia,  Burgundy,  Aquitaine,  incessantly  changing  mas- 
ters, frontiers,  extent,  and  importance ;  reduced  at  length  to 
two,  the  kingdoms  of  Austrasia  and  Neustria,  even  these  two 
had  nothing  stable  or  regular,  their  chiefs  and  their  limits 
continually  varied ;  the  kings  and  the  provinces  continually 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  ;  so  that  even  in  the  interior  of 
the  territory  occupied  by  the  Frankish  population,  no  political 
association  had  any  consistency  or  firmness. 

The  external  frontiers  were  still  more  uncertain.  On  the 
cast  and  north  the  movement  of  the  invasion  of  the  German 
nations  continued.  The  Thuringians,  the  Bavarians,  the 
Allemandi,  the  Frisons,  the  Saxons,  incessantly  made  efforts 
to  pass  the  Rhine,  and  take  their  share  of  the  territory  which 
the  Franks  occupied.     In  order  to  resist  them,  the  Franks 


380  HISTORY   OF 

crossed  the  Rhine  ■  they  ravaged,  at  several  times,  tke  coun. 
tries  of  the  Thuringians,  the  Allemandi,  and  the  Bavarians, 
and  reduced  these  nations  to  a  subondinate  condition,  doubt- 
less very  precarious,  and  incapable  of  exact  definition.  But 
the  Frisons  and  Saxons  escaped  this  semi-defeat,  and  the 
Austrasian  Franks  were  forced  to  maintain  an  incessant  wa* 
fare  against  them,  which  prevented  their  frontiers  from  gain, 
ing  the  least  regularity  on  this  side. 

On  the  west,  the  Britons  and  all  the  tribes  established  in 
the  peninsula  known  under  the  name  of  Armorica,  kept  the 
frontiers  of  the  Neustrian  Franks  in  the  game  state  of  uncer- 
tainty. 

In  the  south,  in  Provence,  Narbonnese,  and  Aquitaine,  it 
was  no  longer  from  the  movement  of  the  barbarous  and  half 
wandering  colonies  that  the  fluctuation  proceeded  ;  but  there 
was  fluctuation.  The  ancient  Roman  population  incessantly 
labored  to  regain  its  independence.  The  Franks  had  con- 
quered, but  did  not  fully  possess  these  countries.  When  their 
great  incursions  ceased,  the  towns  and  country  districts  re- 
belled, and  confederated  in  order  to  shake  off  the  yoke.  A 
new  cause  of  agitation  and  instability  was  joined  to  their 
efforts.  Mohammedanism  dates  its  rise  from  the  16th  of 
July,  622 ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  same  century,  or  at  least  at 
the  commencement  of  the  eighth,  it  inundated  the  south  of 
Italy,  nearly  the  whole  of  Spain,  the  south  of  Gaul,  and  made 
on  this  side  a  still  more  impetuous  effort  than  that  of  the  Ger- 
man nations  on  the  borders  of  the  Rhine.  Thus,  on  all 
points,  on  the  north,  the  east,  the  west,  and  the  south,  the 
Frankish  territory  was  incessantly  invaded,  its  frontiers 
changed .  at  the  mercy  of  incessantly  repeated  incursions. 
Upon  the  whole,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that,  in  this  vast 
extent  of  country,  the  Frankish  population  dominated  ;  it  was 
the  strongest,  the  most  numerous,  the  most  established ;  but 
still  it  was  without  territorial  consistency,  without  political 
unity  ;  as  distinct  frontier  nations,  and  under  the  point  of  view 
of  the  law  of  nations,  the  state,  properly  so  called,  did  not 
exist. 

Let  us  enter  into  the  intenor  of  the  Gaulo-Frankish  society ; 
we  shall  not  find  it  any  more  advanced ;  it  will  offer  us  no 
greater  degree  of  entirety  or  fixedness. 

You  will  recollect  that,  in  examining  the  institutions  of  the 
German  nations  before  the  invasion,  I  showed  that  they  could 
flot  be  transplanted  into  the  Gaulish  territory,  and  that  the  free 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  38 4 

institutions,  in  particular  the  government  of  public  affairs  by 
assemblies  of  free  men,  become  inapplicable  to  the  new  situa- 
tion of  the  conquerors,  had  almost  entirely  perished.  Even  the 
class  of  free  men,  that  condition  of  which  individual  independ- 
ence and  equality  were  the  essential  characteristics,  continually 
diminished  in  number  and  importance ;  it  was  evidently  not 
this  class,  nor  the  system  of  institutions  and  influences  analo- 
gous to  its  nature,  that  was  to  prevail  in  the  Gaulo-Frankish 
society,  and  govern  it.  Liberty  was  then  a  cause  of  disorder, 
not  a  principle  of  organization. 

In  the  first  periods  following  the  invasion,  royalty,  as  you 
have  seen,  made  some  progress ;  it  collected  seme  wreck  of  the 
inheritance  of  the  empire  ;  religious  ideas  gave  it  some  power : 
but  this  progress  soon  stopped  ;  the  time  of  the  centraliza- 
tion of  power  was  still  far  distant ;  all  means  of  gaining  obe- 
dience were  wanting ;  obstacles  arose  on  all  sides.  The 
speedy  and  irremediable  humiliation  of  the  Merovingian  royalty 
proves  how  little  capable  the  monarchical  principle  was  of  pos- 
sessing and  regulating  the  Gaulo-Frankish  society.  It  was 
nearly  as  impotent  as  the  principle  of  free  institutions. 

The  aristocratical  principle  prevailed :  it  was  to  the  great 
proprietors,  each  on  his  domain,  to  the  companions  of  the 
king,  the  antrustions,  leudes,  jideles,  that  the  power  actually 
belonged.  But  the  aristocratical  principle  itself  was  incapable 
of  giving  any  stable  or  general  organization  to  society ;  it 
prevailed  in  it,  but  with  as  much  disorder  as  would  have 
flowed  from  any  other  system,  without  conferring  any  more 
simple  or  regular  form.  Consult  all  modern  historians  who 
have  attempted  to  describe  and  explain  this  epoch.  Some 
have  sought  its  key  in  the  struggle  of  the  free  men  against  the 
leudes,  that  is,  the  conquering  nation  against  that  which  was 
to  become  the  nobility  of  the  court;  others  adhere  to  the 
diversity  of  races,  and  will  speak  of  the  struggle  of  the  Ger- 
mans against  the  Gauls;  others,  again,  attach  great  import- 
ance to  the  struggle  of  the  clergy  against  the  laity,  the  bishops 
against  the  great  barbarian  proprietors,  and  there  see  the  secret 
of  most  of  the  events.  Others,  again,  especially  insist  upon 
the  struggle  of  the  kings  themselves  against  their  companions, 
their  leudes,  who  aspired  to  the  rendering  themselves  inde- 
pendent, and  annulling  and  invading  the  royal  power.  All, 
in  some  measure,  have  a  different  word  for  the  enigma  which 
the  social  state  of  this  epoch  presents :  a  great  reason  for  pre- 
luming  that  no  word  can  explain  it.     All  these  struggles, 

31 


382  HISTORY    OF 

in  fact,  existed  ;  all  these  forces  contested  with&ut  any  of 
them  gaining  enough  of  the  ascendency  to  dominate  with 
any  regularity.  The  aristocratic  tendency,  which  must  have 
arisen  later  than  the  feudal  system,  was  certainly  dominant ; 
but  no  institution,  no  permanent  organization,  could  yet  arise 
from  it. 

Thus,  within  and  without,  whether  we  consider  the  social 
order  or  the  political  order,  everything  was  restless,  incessantly 
brought  into  question  ;  nothing  appeared  destined  to  a  long  or 
powerful  development. 

From  civil  society  let  us  pass  to  religious  society ;  the 
recapitulation,  if  I  mistake  not,  will  show  it  to  be  in  the  same 
state. 

The  idea  of  the  unity  of  the  church  was  general  and  domi- 
nant in  minds ;  but  in  facts  it  was  far  from  having  the  same 
extension,  the  same  power.  No  general  principle,  no  govern- 
ment, properly  so  called,  reigned  in  the  Gaulo-Frankish 
church ;  it  was,  like  civil  society,  an  entire  chaos. 

And  first,  the  remains  of  the  free  institutions  which  had 
presided  at  the  first  development  of  Christianity,  had  almost 
entirely  disappeared.  You  have  seen  them  gradually  reduced 
to  the  participation  of  the  clergy  in  the  election  of  bishops,  to 
the  influence  of  councils  in  the  general  administration  of  the 
church.  You  have  seen  the  election  of  bishops,  and  the  influ- 
ence of  councils  decline,  and  almost  vanish  in  their  turn.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  eighth  century,  a  mere  vain  shadow 
remained  of  them  •  the  bishops,  for  the  most  part,  owed  their 
elevation  to  the  orders  of  kings,  or  of  the  mayors  of  the  palace, 
or  to  some  such  form  of  violence.  Councils  scarcely  ever 
met.  No  legal,  constituted  liberty  preserved  any  real  power 
in  the  religious  society. 

We  have  seen  the  dawn  of  universal  monarchy ;  we  have 
seen  papacy  take  a  marked  ascendency  in  the  west.  Do  not 
suppose,  however,  that  at  the  epoch  which  occupies  us,  and 
in  Gaul  especially,  this  ascendency  resembled  a  real  authority 
a  form  of  government.  Nay,  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  cen. 
tury  it  was  in  a  rapid  decay.  When  the  Franks  were  esta- 
blished in  Gaul,  the  popes  tried  to  preserve  with  these  new 
masters  the  credit  which  they  had  enjoyed  under  the  Roman 
empire.  At  the  fifth  century,  the  bishop  of  Rome  possessed 
considerable  domains  in  southern  Gaul,  especially  in  the  dio- 
cese of  Aries,  a  powerful  means  of  relation  and  influence  with 
/hose  countries.     They  remained  to  him  under  the  Visigoth, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  383 

Burgundian,  or  Frank  kings,  and  the  bishop  of  Aries  continued 
to  be  habitually  his  vicar,  as  much  for  his  personal  interests 
as  for  the  general  affairs  of  the  church.  Thus  the  relations 
of  the  popes  with  the  Frank  kings  were  frequent  in  the  sixth 
and  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century ;  numerous  monu- 
ments of  them  have  come  down  to  us ;  among  others,  a  letter 
from  Gregory  the  Great  to  Brunehault ;  and,  upon  some 
occasions,  the  Franks  themselves  had  recourse  to  the  inter- 
vention of  papacy.  But  in  the  course  of  the  seventh  century, 
by  a  multitude  of  rather  complex  causes,  this  intervention 
almost  entirely  ceased.  We  find  from  Gregory  the  Great 
to  Gregory  II.  (from  the  year  604  to  the  year  715)  scarcely 
a  single  letter,  a  single  document,  which  proves  any  cor- 
respondence between  the  masters  of  Frankish  Gaul  and  the 
papacy. 

The  prodigious  disorder  which  then  reigned  in  Gaul,  the 
instability  of  all  kingdoms,  and  of  all  kings,  doubtless  contri- 
buted to  it ;  no  one  had  any  time  to  think  of  contracting  or 
keeping  up  relations  so  distant ;  everything  was  decided  at 
once  upon  the  spot,  and  on  direct  and  immediate  motives. 
Beyond  the  Alps  almost  equal  disorder  reigned  ;  the  Lombards 
invaded  Italy,  and  menaced  Rome  ;  a  personal  and  pressing 
danger  retained  the  attention  of  the  papacy  within  the  circle 
of  its  own  peculiar  interests.  Besides,  the  composition  of  the 
episcopacy  of  the  Gauls  was  no  longer  the  same ;  many  bar- 
barians had  entered  into  it,  strangers  to  all  the  recollections, 
all  the  customs  which  had  so  long  united  the  Gaulish  bishops 
to  the  bishop  of  Rome.  All  circumstances  concurred  to  make 
null  the  religious  relations  between  Rome  and  Gaul ;  so  that 
at  the  end  of  the  seventh  century,  the  Gaulo-Frankish  church 
was  no  more  governed  by  the  principle  of  universal  monarchy 
than  by  that  of  common  deliberation  ;  papacy  was  scarcely 
more  powerful  than  liberty. 

There,  as  elsewhere,  in  religious  society,  as  in  civil  society, 
the  aristocratical  principle  had  prevailed.  It  was  to  episco- 
pacy that  the  government  of  the  Gaulo-Frankish  church  be- 
longed. It  was  administered  during  the  fifth  and  sixth  cen- 
turies, with  a  good  deal  of  regularity  and  continuity ;  but  in 
the  course  of  the  seventh,  from  the  causes  which  I  have  al- 
ready spoken  of,  the  episcopal  aristocracy  fell  into  the  same 
corruption,  the  same  anarchy  which  seized  upon  the  civil 
aristocracy ;  the  metropolitans  lost  all  authority ;  mere  priests 
lost  all  influence ;  many  bishops  reckoned  more  on  their  influ- 


384  HISTORY   OF 

ence  as  proprietors,  than  on  their  mission  as  chiefs  of  the 
church;  Many  of  the  laity  received  or  usurped  the  bishop- 
rics as  private  domains.  Each  occupied  himself  with  his 
temporal  or  diocesan  interests ;  all  unity  vanished  in  the  go- 
vernment  of  the  secular  clergy.  The  monastic  order  pre- 
sented a  similar  aspect ;  the  rule  of  Saint  Benedict  was  com 
monly  adopted  in  it,  but  no  general  administration  connected 
the  various  establishments  among  themselves ;  each  monastery 
ruled  and  governed  itself  apart;  so  that,  at  the  end  of  th» 
seventh  century,  the  aristocratical  system  which  dominates 
alike  in  church  and  state,  was  here  almost  as  disordered,  al- 
most as  incapable  of  giving  rise  to  any  approach  to  a  general 
and  regular  government. 

Nothing,  therefore,  was  established  at  this  epoch,  in  eilhei 
one  or  other  of  the  two  societies  from  which  modern  society 
has  arisen.  The  absence  of  rule  and  public  authority  was, 
,  perhaps,  more  complete  than  immediately  after  the  fall  of  the 
empire ;  then,  at  all  events,  the  wrecks  of  Roman  and  German 
institutions  still  subsisted,  and  maintained  some  kind  of  social 
order  amidst  the  most  agitated  events.  When  the  fall  of  the 
Merovingian  race  approached,  even  these  wrecks  had  fallen 
into  ruin,  and  no  new  edifice  had  as  yet  arisen  ;  there  was 
scarcely  a  trace  of  the  imperial  administration,  or  of  the  mals 
or  assemblies  of  the  free  men  of  Germany,  and  the  feudal 
organization  was  not  seen.  Perhaps  at  no  epoch  has  the  chaos 
been  so  great,  or  the  State  had  so  little  existence. 

Still,  under  this  general  dissolution,  two  new  forces,  two 
principles  of  organization  and  government,  were  being  pre- 
pared in  civil  and  religious  society,  destined  to  approach  each 
other  and  to  unite,  in  order,  at  last,  to  make  an  attempt  to  put 
an  end  to  the  chaos,  and  to  give  to  church  and  state  the  en- 
tirety and  fixity  which  they  wanted. 

Whoever  will  observe,  attentively,  the  distribution  of  the 
Franks  over  the  Gaulish  territory,  from  the  sixth  to  the 
eighth  century,  will  be  struck  with  a  considerable  difference 
between  the  Franks  of  Austrasia,  situated  on  the  borders  of 
the  Rhine,  the  Moselle,  and  the  Meuse,  and  that  of  the  Franks 
of  Neustria,  transplanted  into  the  centre,  the  west  and  the 
south  of  Gaul.  The  first  were  probably  more  numerous,  and 
certainly  less  dispersed.  They  still  kept  to  that  soil  whence 
the  Germans  drew  their  power  and  fertility,  so  to  speak,  as 
Antasus  did  from  the  earth.  The  Rhine  alone  separated  them 
from  ancient   Germany;  they   lived   in   continual   relation, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  385 

hostile  or  pacific,  with  the  German  and  partly  Frankish 
colonies  who  inhabited  the  right  bank.  Still  they  were  well 
established  in  their  new  country,  and  wished  firmly  to  guard 
it.  They  were  also  less  separated  from  the  manners  of  the 
ancient  German  society  than  were  the  Neustrian  Franks,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  having  become  proprietors,  they  daily  more 
and  more  contracted  the  wants  and  habits  of  their  new  situa- 
tion, and  of  the  social  organization  which  might  be  adapted  to 
it.  Two  facts,  apparently  contradictory,  bring  out  into  bold 
relief  this  particular  characteristic  of  the  Austrasian  Franks. 
It  was  more  especially  from  Austrasia  that  those  bands  of 
warriors  set  out  whom  we  see,  in  the  course  of  the  sixth  and 
seventh  centuries,  still  spreading  over  Italy  and  the  south  of 
Gaul,  and  there  abandoning  themselves  to  a  life  of  incursion 
and  pillage ;  and  yet  it  is  in  Austrasia  that  the  most  remarka- 
ble monuments  of  the  passage  of  the  Franks  into  the  condition 
of  proprietors  are  seen ;  upon  the  borders  of  the  Rhine,  the 
Moselle,  and  the  Meuse,  are  the  strongest  of  those  habitations 
of  theirs  which  became  castles,  so  that  Austrasian  society  is 
the  most  complete  and  faithful  image  of  the  ancient  manners 
and  the  new  situation  of  the  Franks  ;  it  is  there  that  one  least 
meets  with  Roman  or  heterogeneous  elements ;  it  is  there  that 
the  spirit  of  conquest  and  the  territorial  spirit,  the  instincts  of 
the  proprietor  and  those  of  the  warrior  are  allied,  and  display 
themselves  with  the  greatest  energy. 

A  fact  so  important  could  not  fail  to  become  evident,  and  to 
exercise  a  great  influence  over  the  course  of  events ;  the  Aus- 
trasian society  could  not  but  give  rise  to  some  institution, 
some  power,  which  expressed  and  developed  its  character. 
This  was  the  part  taken  of  its  mayors  of  the  palace,  and  in 
particular  by  the  family  of  the  Pepins. 

The  mayor  of  the  palace  is  met  with  in  all  the  Frankish 
kingdoms.  I  shall  not  enter  here  into  a  long  history  of  the 
institution,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  remarking  its  character 
and  general  vicissitudes.  The  mayors  were  at  first  merely 
the  first  superintendents,  the  first  administrators  of  the  interior 
of  the  palace  of  the  king ;  the  chiefs  whom  he  put  at  the  head 
of  his  companions,  of  his  leudes,  still  united  around  him.  It 
was  their  duty  to  maintain  order  among  the  king's  men,  to 
administer  justice,  to  look  to  all  the  affairs,  to  all  the  wants, 
of  that  great  domestic  society.  They  were  the  men  of  the 
King  with  the  leudes ;  this  was  their  first  character,  their  first 
state. 


386  HISTORY   OF 

Now  for  the  second.  After  having  exercised  the  power  of 
the  king  over  his  leudes,  his  mayors  of  the  palace  usurped  it 
to  their  own  profit.  The  leudes,  by  grants  of  public  charges 
and  fiefs,  were  not  long  before  thev  became  great  proprietors. 
This  new  situation  was  superior  .o  that  of  companions  of  the 
king ;  they  detached  themselves  from  him,  and  united  in 
order  to  defend  their  common  interests.  According  as  their 
fortune  dictated,  the  mayors  of  the  palace  sometimes  resisted 
them,  more  often  united  with  them,  and,  at  first  servants  of 
the  king,  they  at  last  became  the  chiefs  of  an  aristocracy, 
against  whom  royalty  could  do  nothing. 

These  are  the  two  principal  phases  of  this  institution  :  it 
gained  more  extension  and  fixedness  in  Austrasia,  in  the 
family  of  the  Pepins,  who  possessed  it  almost  a  century  and  a  half, 
than  anywhere  else.  At  once  great  proprietors,  usufructuaries 
of  the  royal  power,  and  warlike  chiefs,  Pepin-le-Vieux,  Pepin 
l'Heristal,  Charles  Martel,  and  Pepin-le-Bref,  by  turns  de- 
fended these  various  interests,  appropriated  their  power  to 
themselves,  and  thus  found  themselves  the  representatives  of 
the  aristocracy,  of  royalty,  and  of  that  mind,  at  once  territo- 
rial and  conquering,  which  animated  the  Franks  of  Austrasia, 
and  secured  to  them  the  preponderance.  There  resided  the 
principle  of  life  and  organization  which  was  to  take  hold  of 
civil  society,  and  draw  it,  at  least  for  some  time,  from  the 
state  of  anarchy  and  impotence  into  which  it  was  plunged. 
The  Pepins  were  the  depositories  of  its  power,  the  instrument 
of  its  action. 

In  the  religious  society,  but  out  of  the  Frank  territory,  a 
power  was  also  developed  capable  of  introducing,  or  at  least 
of  attempting  to  introduce,  order  and  reformation  into  it :  this 
was  papacy. 

I  shajl  not  repeat  here  what  I  have  already  said  of  the  first 
origin  of  papacy,  and  of  the  religious  causes  to  which  it  owed 
the  progressive  extension  of  its  power.  Independently  of 
these  causes,  and  in  a  purely  temporal  point  of  view,  the 
bishop  of  Rome  found  himself  placed  in  the  most  favorable 
situation.  Three  circumstances,  you  will  recollect,  especially 
contribute  i  to  establish  the  power  of  the  bishops  in  general : 
1st,  their  vast  domains,  which  caused  them  to  take  a  place  in 
tha.  hierarchy  of  great  proprietors  to  which  European  society 
had  belonged  for  so  long  a  period  ;  2d,  their  intervention  in 
the  municipal  system,  and  the  preponderance  which  they 
exercised  in  cities,  by  being  directly  or  indirectly  receiving 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  381 

the  inheritance  of  the  ancient  magistracies ;  3d,  their  quality 
as  councillors  of  the  temporal  power ;  they  surrounded  the 
new  kings,  and  directed  them  in  their  attempts  at  govern- 
ment. Upon  this  triple  base  the  episcopal  power  raised 
itself  in  the  rising  states.  The  bishop  of  Rome  was,  more 
than  any  other,  prepared  to  profit  by  it.  Like  others,  he  was 
a  great  proprietor.  At  a  very  early  period  he  possessed  con- 
siderable domains  in  the  Campagna  di  Roma,  in  the  south  of 
Italy,  and  upon  the  borders  of  the  Adriatic  sea.  Considered 
as  a  councillor  of  the  temporal  power,  no  one  had  so  good  a 
chance  :  instead,  like  the  Frank,  Spanish,  Anglo-Saxon, 
bishops,  of  being  the  servant  of  a  king  present,  he  was  the 
representative,  the  vicar  of  a  king  absent ;  he  depended  on 
the  emperor  of  the  east,  a  sovereign  who  rarely  cramped  his 
administration,  and  never  eclipsed  it.  The  empire,  it  is 
true,  had  other  representatives  than  the  pope  in  Italy  ;  the 
exarch  of  Ravenna,  and  a  duke  who  resided  at  Rome,  were 
the  real  delegates  with  regard  to  the  civil  administration ; 
but,  in  the  interior  of  Rome,  the  attributes  of  the  bishop 
in  civil  matters,  and  in  default  of  attributes,  his  influence  in 
other  respects,  conferred  almost  all  the  power  upon  him.  The 
emperors  neglected  nothing  to  retain  him  in  their  dependence; 
they  carefully  preserved  the  right  of  confirming  his  election ; 
he  paid  them  certain  tributes,  and  constantly  maintained  at 
Constantinople,  under  the  name  of  Apocrisiary,  an  agent 
charged  to  manage  all  his  affairs  there,  and  to  answer  for 
his  fidelity.  But  if  these  precautions  retarded  the  complete 
and  external  emancipation  of  the  popes,  it  did  not  prevent 
their  independence  being  great,  nor,  under  the  title  of  dele- 
gates of  the  emperor,  their  daily  approaching  nearer  to  be- 
coming its  successors. 

As  municipal  magistrates,  as  chiefs  of  the  people  within  the 
walls  of  Rome,  their  situation  was  not  less  advantageous. 
You  have  seen  that  in  the  remainder  of  the  west,  particularly 
in  Gaul,  and  as  the  inevitable  effect  of  the  disasters  of  the  in- 
vasion, the  municipal  system  was  declining  ;  there  certainly 
remained  its  wrecks,  and  the  bishop  almost  alone  disposed  of 
them  ;  but  they  were  only  wrecks  ;  the  importance  of  the 
municipal  magistrates  was  daily  lowered  under  the  violent 
blows  of  counts,  or  other  barbarous  chiefs.  It  was  far  from 
being  thus  in  Rome :  there  the  municipal  system,  instead 
of  being  weakened,  was  fortified.  Rome  in  no  way  remained 
in  the  possession  of  the  barbarians  ;    they  only  pillaged  it  in 


'£68  HISTORY   OF 

passing  ;  the  imperial  power  was  too  distant  to  be  real ;  the 
municipal  system  soon  became  the  only  government ;  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Roman  people  in  its  affairs  was  much  more 
active,  much  more  efficacious,  at  the  sixth  and  seventh  cen- 
turies, than  it  had  been  in  preceding  ages.  The  municipal 
magistrates  became  political  magistrates  j  and  the  bishop,  who, 
under  forms  more  or  less  fixed,  by  means  more  or  less  direct, 
was  in  some  measure  their  chief,  took  the  first  lead  in  this 
general  and  unperceived  elevation  towards  a  kind  of  sove- 
reignty, while  elsewhere  the  episcopal  power  arose  not  be- 
yond the  limits  of  a  narrow  and  doubtful  administration. 

Thus,  as  proprietors,  councillors  of  sovereign,  and  as  popu- 
lar magistrates,  the  bishops  of  Rome  had  the  best  chances ; 
and  while  religious  circumstances  tended  to  increase  their 
power,  political  circumstances  had  the  same  result,  and  im- 
pelled them  in  the  same  paths.  Thus,  in  the  course  of  the 
sixth  and  seventh  centuries,  papacy  gained  a  degree  of  impor- 
tance in  Italy,  which  it  had  formerly  been  very  far  from 
possessing ;  and  although  at  the  end  of  this  epoch  it  was  a 
stranger  to  Frankish  Gaul,  although  its  relations  both  with  the 
kings  and  with  the  Frank  clergy  had  become  rare,  yet,  such 
was  its  general  progress,  that  in  setting  foot  again  in  the  mon- 
archy of  the  Frankish  church,  it  did  not  fail  to  appear  there 
with  a  force  and  credit  superior  to  all  rivalry. 

Here,  then,  we  see  two  new  powers  which  were  formed 
and  confirmed  amidst  the  general  dissolution ;  in  the  Frank 
state,  the  mayors  of  the  palace  of  Austrasia  ;  in  the  Christian 
church,  the  popes  ;  here  are  two  active,  energetic  principles, 
which  seem  disposed  to  take  possession,  the  one  of  civil 
society,  the  other  of  religious  society,  and  capable  of  attempt- 
ing some  work  of  organization,  of  establishing  some  govern- 
ment therein. 

It  was,  in  fact,  by  the  influence  of  these  two  principles, 
and  of  their  alliance,  that,  in  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century, 
the  great  crisis  of  which  we  seek  the  character  shone  forth. 

After  the  fifth  century,  papacy  took  the  lead  in  the  con- 
version of  the  pagans  ;  the  clergy  of  the  various  spates  of  the 
west,  occupied  both  in  its  religious  local  duties,  and  in  its 
temporal  duties,  had  almost  abandoned  this  great  enterprise  : 
the  monks  alone,  more  interested  and  less  indolent,  continued 
to  occupy  themselves  arduously  in  it.  The  bishop  of  Rome 
undertook  to  direct  them,  and  they  in  general  accepted  him 
for  a  chief.     At  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  Gregory  the 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  ■  389 

Great  accomplished  the  most  important  of  these  conversions, 
that  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  established  in  Britain.  By  his 
orders,  Roman  monks  set  out  to  undertake  it.  They  began 
with  the  county  of  Kent,  and  Augustin,  one  among  them, 
was  the  first  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
church  was  thus,  at  the  seventh  century,  the  only  one  in  the 
west  which  owed  its  origin  to  the  Romish  church.  Italy, 
Spain,  and  Gaul,  had  become  Christian  without  the  help  of 
papacy ;  their  churches  were  not  bound  to  that  of  Rome 
by  a  filial  power ;  they  were  her  siste;  s,  not  her  daughters. 
Britain,  on  the  contrary,  received  her  faith  and  her  first 
preachers  from  Rome.  She  was,  therefore,  at  this  epoch, 
far  more  than  any  other  church  in  the  west,  in  habitual 
correspondence  with  the  popes,  devoted  to  their  interests, 
docile  to  their  authority.  By  a  natural  consequence,  and 
also  by  reason  of  the  similitude  of  idioms,  it  was  more 
especially  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  monks  that  the  popes  under- 
took the  conversion  of  the  other  pagan  nations  of  Europe, 
among  others,  of  Germany.  One  need  only  glance  over  the 
lives  of  the  saints  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries  to  be 
convinced  that  the  greater  part  of  the  missionaries  sent  to 
the  Bavarians,  the  Frisons,  the  Saxons,  Willibrod,  Rupert 
Willibald,  Winfried,  came  from  Britain.  They  could  not 
labor  at  this  work  without  entering  into  frequent  relations 
with  the  Austrasian  Franks,  and  their  chiefs.  The  Austra- 
sians  on  all  sides  bordered  the  nations  beyond  the  Rhine,  and 
were  incessantly  struggling  to  prevent  them  from  again  in- 
undating the  west.  The  missionaries  were  obliged  to 
traverse  their  territory,  and  to  obtain  their  support,  in  ordei 
to  penetrate  into  the  barbarous  countries.  They  therefore 
failed  not  to  claim  that  support.  Gregory  the  Great  even 
ordered  the  monks  whom  he  sent  into  Britain  to  pass  through 
Austrasia,  and  recommended  them  to  the  two  kings,  Theodoric 
and  Theodebert,  who  then  reigned  at  Chalons  and  at  Metz. 
The  recommendation  was  far  more  necessary  and  pressing 
when  the  matter  in  hand  was  to  convert  the  German  colonies. 
The  Austrasian  chiefs  on  their  side,  Arnoul,  Pepin  l'Herital, 
and  Charles  Martel,  were  not  long  in  foreseeing  what  advan- 
tages such  labors  might  have  for  them.  In  becoming  Chris- 
tians, these  troublesome  colonies  were  obliged  to  become 
fixed,  to  submit  to  some  regular  influence,  at  least  to  enter  into 
the  path  of  civilization.  Besides,  the  missionaries  were  ex- 
cellent explorers  of  t hose  countries  with  which  communication 


390  HISTORY   OF  . 

was  so  difficult  of  accomplishment ;  by  their  mediation  could 
be  procured  information  and  advice.  Where  could  be  found 
such  skilful  agents,  such  useful  allies  ?  Accordingly,  tho 
alliance  was  soon  concluded.  It  was  in  Austrasia  that  the 
missionaries  who  were  spread  over  Germany  found  their  prin- 
cipal fulcrum  j  it  was  from  thence  that  they  set  out,  to  it  that 
they  returned ;  it  was  to  the  kingdom  of  Austrasia  that  they 
annexed  their  spiritual  conquests ;  it  was  with  the  masters 
of  Austrasia  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  the  popes  on  the 
other,  that  they  were  in  intimate  and  constant  correspond- 
ence. Glance  at  the  life,  follow  the  works  of  the  most  illus- 
trious and  most  powerful  among  them,  namely,  Saint 
Boniface,  and  you  will  recognize  all  the  facts  of  which  I 
have  just  spoken. 

Saint  Boniface  was  an  Anglo-Saxon,  born  about  680,  at 
Crediton,  in  the  county  of  Devon,  and  called  Winfried.  A 
monk  in  the  monastery  of  Exeter  at  a  very  early  period,  and 
later,  in  that  of  Nutsell,  it  is  not  known  whence  came  his  de- 
sign of  devoting  himself  to  the  conversion  of  the  German 
nations ;  perhaps  he  merely  followed  the  example  of  many 
of  his  compatriots.  However  this  may  be,  from  the  year 
715,  we  find  him  preaching  amidst  the  Frisons ;  incessantly 
renewed  warfare  between  them  and  the  Austrasian  Franks 
drove  him  from  their  country  ;  he  returned  to  his  own,  and 
re-entered  the  monastery  of  Nutsell.  In  718,  we  encounter 
him  at  Rome,  receiving  from  pope  Gregory  II.  a  formal 
mission,  and  instructions  for  the  conversion  of  the  Germans. 
He  goes  from  Rome  into  Austrasia,  corresponds  with  Charles 
Martel,  passes  the  Rhine,  and  pursues  his  enormous  enterprise 
with  indefatigable  perseverance  among  the  Frisons,  the  Thu- 
ringians,  the  Bavarians,  the  Catti,  and  the  Saxons.  His  entire 
life  was  devoted  to  it,  and  it  was  always  with  Rome  that 
were  connected  his  works.  In  723,  Gregory  II.  nominated 
him  bishop ;  in  732,  Gregory  III.  conferred  upon  him  the  titles 
of  archbishop  and  apostolic  vicar ;  in  738,  Winfried,  who  no 
longer  bore  the  name  of  Boniface,  made  a  new  journey  to 
Rome,  in  order  to  regulate  definitively  the  relations  of  the 
Christian  church  which  he  had  just  founded,  with  Christianity 
in  general ;  and  for  him  Rome  is  the  centre,  the  pope  is  the 
chief  of  Christianity.  It  was  to  the  profit  of  papacy  that  he  sent 
in  all  directions  the  missionaries  placed  under  his  orders, 
erected  bishoprics,  conquered  nations.  Here  is  the  oath  which 
tie  took  when  the  pope  nominated  him  archbishop  of  Mayence, 


CIVILIZATION   IN    FRANCE.  39/ 

and  metropolitan  of  the  bishoprics  which  he  should  found  in 
Germany. 

"  I,  Boniface,  bishop  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  promise  to  thee, 
blessed  Peter,  prince  of  the  apostles,  and  to  thy  vicar,  the 
holy  Gregory,  and  to  his  successors,  by  the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  holy  and  indivisible  Trinity,  and  by 
thy  sacred  body,  here  present,  always  to  keep  a  perfect 
fidelity  to  the  holy  catholic  faith  ;  to  remain,  with  the  aid  of 
God,  in  the  unity  of  that  faith,  upon  which,  without  doubt, 
depends  the  whole  salvation  of  Christians  ;  not  to  lerjd  myself, 
upon  the  instigation  of  any  one,  to  anything  which  can  be 
against  the  universal  church,  and  to  prove,  in  all  things,  my 
fidelity,  the  pureness  of  my  faith,  and  my  entire  devotion  to 
thee,  to  the  interests  of  thy  church,  who  hast  received  from 
God  the  power  to  tie  and  to  untie,  to  thy  said  vicar,  and  to 
his  successors :  and  if  I  learn  that  the  bishops  are  against  the 
ancient  rule  of  the  holy  fathers,  I  promise  to  have  no  alliance 
nor  communion  with  them,  any  more  than  to  repress  them  if 
I  am  able ;  if  not,  I  will  at  once  inform  my  apostolic  lord. 
And  if  (which  God  forbid  !)  I  ever,  whether  by  will  or  occa- 
sion, do  anything  against  these  my  promises,  let  me  be  found 
guilty  at  the  eternal  judgment — let  me  incur  the  chastise- 
ment of  Ananias  and  of  Sapphira,  who  dared  to  lie  unto  you, 
and  despoil  you  of  part  of  their  property.  I,  Boniface,  an 
humble  bishop,  have  with  my  own  hand  written  this  attesta- 
tion of  oath,  and  depositing  it  on  the  most  sacred  body  of  the 
sacred  Peter,  1  have,  as  it  is  prescribed,  taking  God  to  judge 
and  witness,  made  the  oath,  which  I  promise  to  keep."1 

To  this  oath  I  add  the  statement  which  Boniface  himself 
has  transmitted  to  us  of  the  decrees  of  the  first  German 
council  held  under  his  presidence  in  742  : 

"  In  our  synodal  meeting,  we  have  declared  and  decreed 
that  to  the  end  of  our  life  we  desire  to  hold  the  catholic  faith 
and  unity,  and  submission  to  the  Roman  church,  Saint  Peter, 
and  his  vicar  ;  that  we  will  every  year  assemble  the  synod  ; 
that  the  metropolitans  shall  demand  the  pallium  from  the  see 
of  Rome,  and  that  we  will  canonically  follow  all  the  precepts 
of  Peter,  to  the  end  that  we  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
number  of  his  sheep,  and  we  have  consented  and  subscribed 


.  S.  Bonif.  Epjst.,  cp.  118;   Bib.  Pat.,  vol.  xiii.,  p.  119;  ed    of 
Lyons. 


392  HISTORY    OF 

to  this  profession.  I  have  sent  it  to  the  body  of  Saint  Peter 
prince  of  the  apostles,  and  the  clergy  and  the  pontiff  have 
joyfully  received  it. 

"  If  any  bishop  can  correct  or  reform  anything  in  his  dio- 
cese, let  him  propose  the  reformation  in  the  synod  before  the 
archbishops  and  all  there  present,  even  as  we  ourselves  have 
promised  with  oath  to  the  Roman  church.  Should  we  see  the 
priests  and  people  breaking  the  law  of  God,  and  we  are  unable 
to  correct  them,  we  will  faithfully  inform  the  apostolic  see, 
and  the  vicar  of  Saint  Peter,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  said 
reform.  It  is  thus,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  that  all  bishops 
should  render  an  account  to  the  metropolitan,  and  he  to  the 
pontiff  of  Rome,  of  that  which  they  do  not  succeed  in  re- 
forming among  the  people,  and  thus  they  will  not  have  the 
blood  of  lost  souls  upon  their  heads."1 

Of  a  surety,  it  is  impossible  more  formally  to  submit 
the  new  church,  the  new  Christian  nations  to  the  papal 
power. 

A  scruple,  which  I  must  express,  impedes  my  progress :  1 
fear  that  you  are  tempted  to  see  more  especially  in  this  con- 
duct of  Saint  Boniface  the  influence  of  temporal  motives,  of 
ambitious  and  interested  combinations :  it  is  a  good  deal  the 
disposition  of  our  time ;  and  we  are  even  a  little  inclined  to 
boast  of  it,  as  a  proof  of  our  liberty  of  mind  and  our  good 
sense.  Most  certainly  led  us  judge  all  things  in  full  liberty 
of  mind ;  let  the  severest  good  sense  preside  at  our  judgments ; 
but  let  us  feel  that,  wherever  we  meet  with  great  things  and 
great  men,  there  are  other  motives  than  ambitious  combina- 
tions and  personal  interests.  Let  it  be  known  that  the  thought 
of  man  can  be  elevated,  that  its  horizon  can  be  extended  only 
when  he  becomes  detached  from  the  world  and  from  himself; 
and  that,  if  egoism  plays  a  great  part  in  history,  that  of  dis- 
interested and  moral  activity  is,  in  the  eyes  of  the  most  rigor. 
ous  critic,  infinitely  superior  to  it.  Boniface  proves  it  as  well 
as  others.  All  devoted  as  he  was  to  the  court  of  Rome,  he 
could,  when  need  was,  speak  truth  to  it,  reproach  it  with  its 
evil,  and  urge  it  to  take  heed  to  itself.  He  learned  that  it 
granted  certain  indulgences,  that  it  permitted  certain  licences 
which  scandalized  severe  consciences.  He  wrote  to  the  pope 
Zachary  : 


1  Labbe,  Counc,  vol.  xi.,  col.  1544-45 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  393 

"  These  carnal  men,  these  simple  Germans,  or  Bavarians, 
or  Franks,  if  they  see  things  done  at  Rome  which  we  forbid, 
suppose  that  it  has  been  permitted  and  authorized  by  the 
priests,  and  turn  it  against  us  in  derision,  and  take  advantage 
of  it  for  the  scandal  of  their  life.  Thus,  they  say  that  every 
year,  in  the  calends  of  January,  they  have  seen,  at  Rome, 
both  day  and  night,  near  the  church,  dancers  overrunning  the 
public  places,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  pagans,  and 
raising  clamors,  after  their  fashion,  and  singing  sacrilegious 
songs  ;  and  this  day,  they  say,  and  till  night-time,  the  tables 
are  loaded  with  meats,  and  no  one  will  lend  to  his  neighbor 
either  fire  or  iron,  or  anything  in  his  house.  They  say  also, 
that  they  have  seen  women  carry  phylacteries,  and  fillets 
attached  to  their  legs  and  arms,  and  offer  all  sorts  of  things 
for  sale  to  the  passers  by ;  and  all  these  things  seen  by  carnal 
men,  and  those  but  little  instructed,  are  subjects  of  derision, 
and  an  obstacle  to  our  preaching,  and  to  the  faith.  ...  If 
your  paternity  interdict  these  pagan  customs  in  Rome,  it  will 
acquire  a  great  reputation,  and  will  assure  us  a  great  progress 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  church."1 

I  might  cite  many  other  letters,  written  with  as  much 
freedom,  and  which  prove  the  same  sincerity.  But  a  fact 
speaks  louder  than  all  the  letters  in  the  world.  After  having 
founded  new  bishoprics  and  many  monasteries,  at  the  highest 
point  of  his  success  and  glory,  in  753,  that  is  at  seventy- 
three  years  of  age,  the  Saxon  missionary  demanded  and 
obtained  authority  to  quit  his  bishopric  of  Mayence,  and  to 
place  therein  his  favorite  disciple  Lullus,  and  to  again  prose- 
cute the  works  of  his  youth  among  the  still  pagan  Frisons. 
He  in  fact  went  amid  woods,  morasses,  and  barbarians,  and 
was  massacred  in  755,  with  many  of  his  companions. 

At  his  death,  the  bringing  over  of  Germany  to  Christianity 
*vas  accomplished,  and  accomplished  to  the  profit  of  papacy. 
But  it  was  also  to  the  profit  of  the  Franks  of  Austrasia,  to 
the  good  of  their  safety  and  their  power.  It  follows  that  it 
was  for  them  as  much  as  for  Rome,  that  Boniface  had  labored  ; 
it  was  upon  the  soil  of  Germany,  in  the  enterprise  of  con- 
verting its  tribes  by  Saxon  missionaries,  that  the  two  new 
powers,  which  were  to  prevail,  the  one  in  the  civil  society, 


»  8.  Bonif.Ep.  ad  Zacharium,  ep    132;  Bib.  Pat.,  vol.  xiii ,  p 
19$,  ed. of  Lyons 


394  HISTORY    OF 

the  other  in  the  religious  society,  encountered  each  other,  the 
mayors  of  the  palace  of  Austrasia,  and  the  popes.  In  order 
to  consummate  their  alliance,  and  to  make  it  bear  all  its 
fruits,  an  occasion  was  only  wanting  on  either  side ;  it  was 
not  long  in  presenting  itself. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  situation  of  the  bishop  of 
Rome  with  regard  to  the  Lombards,  and  of  their  incessant 
eifbrts  to  invade  a  territory,  which  daily  became  more  posi- 
tively his  domain.  Another  real,  although  less  pressing  dan- 
ger, also  approached  him.  As  the  Franks  of  Austrasia,  with 
the  Pepins  at  their  head,  had  on  the  north  to  combat  the  Fri- 
sons  and  the  Saxons,  and  on  the  south  the  Saracens,  so  the 
popes  were  pressed  by  the  Saracens  and  the  Lombards.  Their 
situation  was  analogous ;  but  the  Franks  achieved  victory 
under  Charles  Martel ;  the  papacy,  not  in  a  condition  to  de- 
fend herself,  everywhere  sought  soldiers.  She  tried  to  obtain 
them  from  the  emperor  of  the  east ;  he  had  none  to  send  her. 
In  739,  Gregory  III.  had  recourse  to  Charles  Martel.  Boni- 
face took  charge  of  the  negotiation  ;  it  was  without  result : 
Charles  Martel  had  too  much  to  do  on  his  own  account ;  he 
cared  not  to  involve  himself  in  a  new  war  ;  but  the  idea  was 
established  at  Rome  that  the  Franks  alone  could  defend  the 
church  against  the  Lombards,  and  that  sooner  or  later  they 
would  cross  the  Alps  for  her  good. 

Some  years  after,  the  chief  of  Austrasia,  Pepin,  son  of 
Charles  Martel,  in  his  turn,  had  need  of  the  pope.  He 
wished  to  get  himself  declared  king  of  the  Franks,  and,  how- 
ever well  his  power  might  be  established,  he  wanted  a  sanc- 
tion to  it.  I  have  many  times  remarked,  and  am  not  tired  of 
repeating  it,  that  power  does  not  suffice  to  itself;  it  wants 
something  more  than  success,  it  wants  to  be  converted  into 
right ;  it  demands  that  characteristic,  sometimes  of  the  free 
assent  of  men,  sometimes  of  religious  consecration.  Pepin 
invoked  both.  More  than  one  ecclesiastic,  perhaps  Boniface, 
suggested  to  him  the  idea  of  getting  his  new  title  of  king  of 
the  Franks  sanctioned  by  the  papacy.  I  shall  not  enter  into 
the  details  of  the  negotiation  undertaken  upon  this  subject ;  it 
offers  some  rather  embarrassing  questions  and  chronological 
difficulties  :  it  is  not  the  less  certain  that  it  took  place,  and 
that  Boniface  conducted  it,  as  his  letters  to  the  pope  often 
show ;  we  see  him,  among  others,  charge  his  disciple  Lullus 
to  inform  the  pope  of  certain  important  affairs  which  he  would 
ather  not  commit  to  vriting.     Lastly,  in  751, 


CIVILIZATION     N    FRANCE.  396 

Burchard,  bishop  of  Wurtzburg,  ancLFulrad,  a  chaplain 
priest,  were  sent  to  Rome  to  pope  Zachary,  in  order  to  con- 
suit  the  pontiff  touching  the  kings  who  were  then  in  France, 
and  who  had  merely  the  name  without  any  power.  The  pope 
answered  by  a  messenger,  that  he  thought  that  he  who  already 
possessed  the  power  of  the  king,  was  the  king  ;  and  giving 
his  full  assent,  he  enjoined  that  Pepin  should  be  made  king. 
....  Pepin  was  then  proclaimed  king  of  the  Franks,  and 
anointed  for  this  high  dignity  with  the  sacred  unction  by  the 
holy  hand  of  Boniface,  archbishop  and  martyr  of  happy 
memory,  and  raised  upon  the  throne,  according  to  custom  of 
.he  Franks,  in  the  town  of  Soissons.  With  regard  to  Childe- 
-ic,  who  invested  himself  with  the  false  name  of  king,  Pepin 
lad  him  shaved  and  put  in  a  monastery."1 

Such  was  the  progressive  march  of  the  revolution  j  such 
were  the  indirect  and  true  causes  of  it.  It  has  been  repre- 
sented in  later  times2  (and- 1  myself  have  contributed  to  pro- 
pagate this  idea3)  as  a  new  German  invasion,  as  a  recent  con- 
quest of  Gaul  by  the  Franks  of  Austrasia,  more  barbarians, 
more  Germans,  than  Franks  of  Neustria,  who  had  gradually 
amalgamated  with  the  Romans.  Such  was  in  fact  the  result, 
and,  so  to  speak,  the  external  character  of  the  event ;  but  its 
character  does  not  suffice  to  explain  it ;  it  had  far  more  dis- 
tant and  more  profound  causes  than  the  continuation  or  re- 
newal of  the  great  German  invasion.  I  have  just  placed 
them  before  you.  The  civil  Gallo-Frankish  society  was  in  a 
complete  dissolution ;  no  system,  no  power  had  come  to 
establish  itself  in  it,  and  to  found  it  in  ruling  it.  The  reli- 
gious society  had  fallen  almost  into  the  same  state.  Two 
principles  of  regeneration  were  gradually  developed  ;  the 
mayor  of  the  palace  among  the  Franks  of  Austrasia ;  and 
'lie  papacy  at  Rome.  These  new  powers  were  naturally 
drawn  together  by  the  mediation  of  the  conversion  of  the 
German  tribes,  in  which  they  had  a  common  interest.  The 
missionaries,  and  especially  the  Anglo-Saxon  missionaries, 
were  the  agents  of  this  junction.  Two  particular  circum- 
stances, the  perils  in  which  the  Lombards  involved  the  pa- 


1  Annalcs  d'Eginhard,  vol.  iii.,  p.  4,  in  my  Collection  des  Mtmoires 
relatifs  a  FHistoire  de  France. 
'  Histoire  des  Francois,  by  M.  de  Sismondi,  vol.  ii.,  p.  168 — 171. 
*  See  my  Essais  sur  F  Histoire  de  France,  third  Essai,  pp  G7--85 


396  HISTORY    OF 

pacy,  and  the  need  which  Pepin  had  of  the  pope  in  order  ta 
get  his  title  of  king  sanctioned,  made  it  a  close  alliance.  It 
raised  up  a  new  race  of  sovereigns  in  Gaul,  destroyed  the 
kingdom  of  the  Lombards  in  Italy,  and  impelled  civil  and 
religious  Gallo-Frankish  society  in  a  route  which  tended  to 
make  royalty  prevail  in  the  civil  .order,  and  papacy  in  the 
religious  order.  Such  will  appear  to  you  the  character  of  the 
attempts  at  civilization  made  in  France  by  the  Carlovingians, 
that  is  to  say,  by  Charlemagne,  the  true  representative  of  that 
new  direction,  although  it  failed  in  its  designs,  and  did  no- 
thing but  throw,  as  it  were,  a  bridge  between  barbarism  and 
feudalism.  This  second  epoch,  the  history  of  civilization  in 
France  under  the  Carlovingians,  in  its  various  phases,  will  te 
the  subject  of  the  following  lectures. 


CIVILIZATION   iN   FRANCE.  397 


TWENTIETH  LECTURE. 

Reign  of  Charlemagne — Greatness  of  his  name — Is  it  true  that  he  set- 
tled nothing  ?  that  all  that  he  did  has  perished  with  him  ? — Of  the 
action  of  great  men — They  play  a  double  part — That  which  they  do, 
in  virtue  of  the  first,  is  durable  ;  that  which  they  attempt,  under  the 
second,  passes  away  with  them — Example  of  Napoleon — Necessity 
of  being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  history  of  events  under 
Charlemagne,  in  order  to  understand  that  of  civilization — How  the 
events  may  be  recapitulated  in  tables — 1.  Charlemagne  as  a  warrior 
and  conqueror  ;  Table  of  his  principal  expeditions — Their  meaning 
and  results — 2.  Charlemagne  as  an  administrator  and  legislator — Of 
the  government  of  the  provinces — Of  the  central  government — Ta- 
ble of  national  assemblies  under  his  reign — Table  of  his  capitularies 
— Table  of  the  acts  and  documents  which  remain  of  this  epoch — 3. 
Charlemagne  as  a  protector  of  intellectual  development:  Table  of 
the  celebrated  cotemporaneous  men — Estimation  of  the  general  re- 
sults, and  of  the  character  of  his  reign. 

We  enter  into  a  second  great  epoch  of  the  history  of  French 
civilization,  and  as  we  enter,  at  the  first  step,  we  encounter  a 
great  man.  Charlemagne  was  neither  the  first  of  his  race, 
nor  the  author  of  its  elevation.  He  received  an  already  es- 
tablished power  from  his  father  Pepin.  I  have  attempted  to 
make  you  understand  the  causes  of  this  revolution  and  its 
true  character.  When  Charlemagne  became  king  of  the 
Franks,  it  was  accomplished ;  he  had  no  need  even  to  defend 
it.  He,  however,  has  given  his  name  to  the  second  dynasty ; 
and  the  instant  one  speaks  of  it,  the  instant  one  thinks  of  it,  it 
is  Charlemagne  who  presents  himself  before  the  mind  as  its 
founder  and  chief.  Glorious  privilege  of  a  great  man  !  No 
one  disputes  that  Charlemagne  had  a  right  to  give  name  to 
his  race  and  age.  The  homage  paid  to  him  is  often  blind 
and  undistinguishing ;  his  genius  and  glory  are  extolled  with- 
out discrimination  or  measure ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  persons 
repeat,  one  after  another,  that  he  founded  nothing,  accom- 
plished nothing  ;  that  his  empire,  his  laws,  all  his  works, 
perished  with  him.  And  this  historical  common-place  intro- 
duces a  crowd  of  moral  common-places  on  the  ineffectualness 
and  uselessness  of  great  men,  the  vanity  of  their  projects,  the 
.ittle  trace  which  fhey  leave  in  the  world,  after  having  trou- 
bled it  in  all  directions. 


398  HISTORY    ov 

Is  this  true  ?  Is  it  the  destiny  of  great  men  to  be  merely  a 
burden  and  a  useless  wonder  to  mankind  ?  Their  activity  so 
strong,  so  brilliant,  can  it  have  no  lasting  result  ?  It  costs 
very  dear  to  be  present  at  the  spectacle  ;  the  curtain  fallen, 
will  nothing  of  it  remain  ?  Should  we  regard  these  powerful 
and  glorious  chiefs  of  a  century  and  a  people,  merely  as  a 
sterile  scourge,  or  at  very  best,  as  a  burdensome  luxury  ? 
Charlemagne,  in  particular,  should  he  be  nothing  more  ? 

At  the  first  glance,  the  common-place  might  be  supposed  to 
be  a  truth.  The  victories,  conquests,  institutions,  reforms, 
projects,  all  the  greatness  and  glory  of  Charlemagne,  vanished 
with  him ;  he  seemed  a  meteor  suddenly  emerging  from  the 
darkness  of  barbarism,  to  be  as  suddenly  lost  and  extin- 
guished in  that  of  feudality.  There  are  other  such  examples 
in  history.  The  world  has  more  than  once  seen,  we  our- 
selves have  seen  an  empire  like  it,  one  which  took  pleasure 
in  being  compared  to  that  of  Charlemagne,  and  had  a  right  so 
to  be  compared ;  we  have  likewise  seen  it  fall  away  with  a 
man. 

But  we  must  beware  of  trusting  these  appearances.  To 
understand  the  meaning  of  great  events,  and  measure  the 
agency  and  influence  of  great  men,  we  need  to  look  far  deeper 
into  the  matter. 

The  activity  of  a  great  man  is  of  two  kinds  ;  he  performs 
two  parts ;  two  epochs  may  generally  be  distinguished  in  his 
career.  First,  he  understands  better  than  other  people  the 
wants  of  his  time ;  its  real,  present  exigencies ;  what,  in  the 
age  he  lives  in,  society  needs,  to  enable  it  to  subsist  and  attain 
its  natural  development.  He  understands  these  wants  better 
than  any  jther  person  of  his  time,  and  knows  better  than  any 
other  how  to  wield  the  powers  of  society,  and  direct  them 
skilfully  towards  the  realization  of  this  end.  Hence  proceed 
his  power  and  glory ;  it  is  in  virtue  of  this,  that  as  soon  as  he 
appears,  he  is  understood,  accepted,  followed  ;  that  all  give 
their  willing  aid  to  the  work  which  he  is  pei  forming  for  the 
benefit  of  all. 

But  he  does  not  stop  here.  When  the  real  wants  of  his 
time  are  in  some  degree  satisfied,  the  ideas  and  the  will  of  the 
great  man  proceed  further.  He  quits  the  region  of  present 
facts  and  exigencies ;  he  gives  himself  up  to  views  in  some 
measure  personal  to  himself;  he  indulges  in  combinations 
more  or  less  vast  and  spacious,  but  which  are  not,  like  his 
orevious  labors,  founded  on  the  actual  state,  the  common  in 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  399 

stincts,  the  determined  wishes  of  society,  but  are  remote  and 
arbitrary.  He  aspires  to  extend  his  activity  and  influence 
indefinitely,  and  to  possess  the  future  as  he  has  possessed  the 
present.  Here  egoism  and  illusion  commence.  For  some 
time,  on  the  faith  of  what  he  has  already  done,  the  great  man 
is  followed  in  his  new  career ;  he  is  believed  in  and  obeyed ; 
men  lend  themselves  to  his  fancies ;  his  flatterers  and  his 
dupes  even  admire  and  vaunt  them  as  his  sublimest  concep- 
tions. The  public,  however,  in  whom  a  mere  delusion  is 
never  of  any  long  continuance,  soon  discovers  that  it  is  im- 
pelled in  a  direction  in  which  it  has  no  desire  to  move  At 
first  the  great  man  had  enlisted  his  high  intelligence  and  pow- 
erful will  in  the  service  of  the  general  feeling  and  wish  ;  he 
now  seeks  to  employ  the  public  force  in  the  service  of  ms  in- 
dividual ideas  and  desires ;  he  is  attempting  things  which  he 
alone  wishes  or  understands.  Hence  disquietude  first,  and 
then  uneasiness  ;  for  a  time  he  is  still  followed,  but  sluggishly 
and  reluctantly ;  next  he  is  censured  and  complained  of ; 
finally,  he  is  abandoned  and  falls ;  and  all  which  he  alone  had 
planned  and  desired,  all  the  merely  personal  and  arbitrary 
part  of  his  work,  perishes  with  him. 

I  shall  avoid  no  opportunity  of  borrowing  from  our  age  the 
torch  which  it  offers,  in  this  instance,  in  order  to  enlighten  a 
time  so  distant  and  obscure.  The  fate  and  name  of  Napoleon 
at  present  belong  to  history.  I  shall  not  feel  the  least  embar- 
rassed in  speaking  of  it,  and  speaking  of  it  freely. 

Every  one  knows  that  at  the  time  when  he  seized  the 
power  in  France,  the  dominant,  imperious  want  of  our  coun- 
try was  security — without,  national  independence  ;  inwardly, 
civil  life.  In  the  revolutionary  troubles,  the  external  and 
internal  destiny,  the  state  and  society,  were  equally  compro- 
mised. To  replace  the  new  France  in  the  European  confede- 
ration, to  make  her  avowed  and  accepted  by  the  other  states, 
and  to  constitute  her  within  in  a  peaceable  and  regular  man- 
ner,— to  put  her,  in  a  word,  into  the  possession  of  indepen- 
dence and  order,  the  only  pledges  of  a  long  future,  this  waa 
the  desire,  the  general  thought  of  the  country.  Napoleon 
understood  and  accomplished  it. 

This  finished,  or  nearly  so,  Napoleon  proposed  to  himself  a 
thousand  others:  potent  in  combinations,  and  of  an  ardent 
imagination,  egoistical  and  thoughtful,  machinator  and  poet, 
ne,  as  it  were,  poured  out  his  activity  in  arbitrary  and  gigan- 
tic projects,  children  of  his  own, — solitary  foreign  to  the  reaj 


400  HISTORY    OF 

wants  of  our  time,  and  of  our  France.  She  followed  him 
for  some  time,  and  at  great  cost,  in  this  path  which  she  had 
not  selected ;  a  day  came  when  she  would  follow  no  further, 
and  the  emperor  found  himself  alone,  and  the  empire  vanished, 
and  all  things  returned  to  their  proper  condition,  to  their  na- 
tural tendency. 

It  is  an  analogous  fact  which  the  reign  of  Charlemagne 
offers  us  at  the  ninth  century.  Despite  the  immense  differ- 
ence of  time,  situation,  form,  even  groundwork,  the  general 
phenomenon  is  similar :  these  two  parts  of  a  great  man,  these 
two  epochs  of  his  career,  are  found  in  Charlemagne  as  in  Na- 
poleon.    Let  us  endeavor  to  state  them. 

Here  I  encounter  a  difficulty  which  has  long  pre-occupied 
me,  and  which  I  do  not  hope  to  have  completely  sumounted. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  course,  I  engaged  to  read  you  a 
general  history  of  France.  I  have  not  recounted  events  to 
you ;  I  have  sought  only  general  results,  the  concatenation  of 
causes  and  effects,  the  progress  of  civilization,  concealed  un- 
der the  external  scenes  of  history ;  as  regards  the  scenes 
themselves,  I  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  you  know  them. 
Hitherto  I  have  cared  little  to  know  if  you  had  taken  this  pre- 
caution ;  under  the  Merovingian  race,  events,  properly  so 
called,  are  of  rare  occurrence — so  monotonous,  that  it  is  less 
necessary  to  regard  them  nearly :  general  facts  only  are  im- 
portant, and  they  may,  up  to  a  certain  point,  be  brought  to 
light  and  understood  without  an  exact  knowledge  of  the  de- 
tails. Under  the  reign  of  Charlemagne,  it  is  entirely  differ- 
ent :  wars,  political  vicissitudes  of  all  kinds,  are  numerous 
and  brilliant ;  they  occupy  an  important  place,  and  general 
facts  are  concealed  far  behind  the  special  facts  which  occupy 
the  front  of  the  scene.  History,  properly  so  called,  envelopes 
and  covers  the  history  of  civilization.  The  latter  will  not 
be  clear  to  you  unless  the  former  is  presented  to  you  ;  I  can. 
not  give  you  an  account  of  events,  and  yet  you  require  to 
know  them. 

I  have  attempted  to  sum  them  up  in  tables,  to  present  under 
that  form  the  special  facts  of  this  epoch  ;  those,  lit  least,  which 
approach  nearly  to  general  facts,  and  immediately  concern 
the  history  of  civilization.  Statistical  tables  are  looked  upon 
in  the  present  day,  and  with  good  reason,  as  one  of  the  best 
means  of  studying  the  state  of  a  society,  under  certain  rela- 
tions ;  why  should  not  the  same  method  be  applied  to  the  past  1 
It  does  not  produce  them  with  vividness  and  animation,  like 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FEANCE. 


401 


recital ;  but  it  raises  their  frame- work,  so  to  speak,  and  pre. 
/ents  general  ideas  from  floating  in  vagueness  and  at  chance. 
In  proportion  as  we  advance  in  the  course  of  civilization,  we 
shall  often  be  obliged  to  employ  it. 

Three  essential  characteristics  appear  in  Charlemagne  :  he 
may  be  considered  under  three  principal  points  of  view :  1st, 
as  a  warrior  and  a  conqueror ;  2d,  as  an  administrator  ana 
legislator ;  3d,  as  a  protector  of  sciences,  letters,  arts,  of  in- 
tellectual  development  in  general.  He  exercised  a  great 
power,  outwardly  by  force,  inwardly  by  government  and 
laws ;  he  desired  to  act,  and  in  fact  did  act,  upon  mankind  it- 
self, upon  the  human  mind  as  upon  society.  I  shall  endeavor 
to  make  you  understand  him  in  these  three  respects,  by  pre- 
senting to  you,  in  tables,  the  facts  which  relate  to  him,  and 
from  which  the  history  of  civilization  may  be  deduced. 

I  commence  with  the  wars  of  Charlemagne,  of  which  the 
following  are  the  most  essential  facts : 


Table  of  the  principal  Expeditions  of  Charlemagne. 


Date. 


769 
772 
773 

774 


Enemies. 


r, 

774 

C 

775 

7 

776 

B 

776 

9 

778 

10 

778 

11 

779 

12 

780 

13 

733 

II 

783 

15 

7S4 

10 

735 

17 

785 

tfi 

786 

19 

■  787 

■I) 

1  787 

Against  the  Aquitani. 

"  the  Saxons. 

"  the  Lombards. 
"  Idem. 

"  the  Saxons. 
"  Idem. 

"*  the  Lombards. 

"  the  Saxons. 

"  the  Arabs  of  Spain. 

"  the  Saxons. 
"  Idem. 

"  Idem. 

"  Idem. 

"  Idem. 

"  Idem. 

"  Idem. 

"  theThuringiara 

**  the  Bretons 

"  the    Lombards  of 

Benevento. 
"      the  Bavarians. 

SA 


Observations. 


He  goes  to  the  Dordogne. 
He  goes  beyond  the  Weser. 
He  goes  to  Pavia  and  Verona. 
He  takes  Pavia,  and  goes  to 
Rome. 


He  goes  to  Treviso. 

He  goes  to  the  sources  of  the 

Lippe. 
He  goes  to  Saragossa. 

He  goes  to  the   country  of 

08nabruck. 
He  goes  to  the  Elbe. 
He  goes  to  the  conflux  of  the 

Weser  and  the  Aller. 
He  goes  to  the  Elbe. 
He  goes  to  the  Sale  and  the 

Elbe. 
He  goes  to  the  Elbe. 
He  does  not  go  in  person. 

Idem. 
He  goes  to  Capua. 

He  goes  to  Augsburg 

LI-3BARY 

*T"TFWERSC*LEfiE 
TA      t  *a    u  »    a  * .  ..    


402 

HISTORY 

IT 

21 

Date. 

Enemies. 

Observations. 

788 

Against  the  Huns  or  Avares 

He  goes  to  Ratisbon. 

22 

789 

•  •      the  Slavonian  Wilt- 

He  goes  between  the  Lower 

zes. 

Elbe  and  the  Oder. 

23 

791 

"      the       Huns        or 

He  goes  to  the  conflux  of  the 

Avares. 

Danube  and  the  Raab. 

24 

794 

"      the  Saxons 

25 

795 

Idem. 

26 

796 

Idem. 

27 

796 

"      the  Huns  or  Avares 

Under  the  orders  of  his  son 
Louis,  king  of  Italy. 

28 

796 

"      the  Arabs. 

Under  the  orders  of  his  son 
Pepin,  king  of  Aquitaine. 

29 

797 

"      the  Saxons. 

He  goes  to  the  Lower  Weser 

. 

and  the  Lower  Elbe. 

30 

797 

"      the  Arabs. 

By  his  son  Louis. 

31 

798 

"      the  Saxons. 

He  goes  beyond  the  Elbe. 

32 

801 

"      the   Lombards   of 
Benevento. 

By  his  son  Pepin  to  Chieti. 

33 

801 

"      the  Arabs  of  Spain. 

By  his  son  Louis  to  Barcelona. 

34 

802 

"      the  Saxons. 

By  his  sons  beyond  the  Elbe. 

35 

804 

Idem. 

He  goes  between  the  Elbe  and 
the  Oder.  He  transplants 
tribes  of  Saxons  into  Gaul 
and  Italy. 

36 

805 

"      the  Slavonians  of 
Bohemia. 

By  his  eldest  son  Charles 

37 

806 

Idem. 

By  his  son  Charles. 

38 

806 

"      the    Saracens    of   By  his  son  Pepin. 

Corsica. 

39 

806 

"      the  Arabs  of  Spain. 

By  his  son  Louis. 

40 

807 

"      the     Saracens     of 
Corsica. 

By  Generals. 

41 

807 

"      the  Arabs  of  Spain. 

Idem. 

42 

808 

"      the      Danes     and 

Normans. 

43 

809 

"      the  Greeks. 

In  Dalmatia,by  his  son  Pepin. 

44 

809 

"      the  Arabs  of  Spain. 

45 

810 

"      the  Greeks. 

Liem. 

46 

810 

"      the    Saracens    in 
Corsica      and 
Sardinia. 

47 

810 

"      the  Danes. 

He  goes  in  person  to  the  conflux 
of  the  Weser  and  the  Aller. 

48 

811 

Idem. 

£ 

811 

"      the  Avares. 

811 

"      the  Bretons. 

51 

812 

"     the  Slavonian  Wilt- 

He  goes  between  the  Elbe  and 

zes. 

the  Oder. 

52 

812 

"      the    Saracens    in 
Corsica. 

53 

813 

Idem. 

CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  408 

That  is,  in  all,  fifty-three  expeditions,  namely : 
1  against  the  Aquitani. 
18         —         Saxons. 
5         —         Lombards. 
7         —         Arabs  of  Spain. 

1  —         Thuringians. 
4         —         Avares. 

2  —         Bretons. 

1  —         Bavarians. 

4  —         Slavonians  beyond  the  Elbe. 

5  —  •     Saracens  in  Italy. 
5  —         Danes. 

2  —         Greens. 

Without  counting  numerous  other  small  expeditions,  of  which 
no  distinct  and  positive  monuments  are  left. 

From  this  table  alone  it  is  clearly  seen  that  these  wars  did 
not  the  least  resemble  those  of  the  first  race ;  they  are  not  the 
dissensions  of  tribe  against  tribe,  of  chief  against  chief;  ex- 
peditions undertaken  with  a  view  of  establishment  or  pillage; 
they  are  systematic  and  political  wars,  inspired  by  an  inten- 
tion of  government,  commanded  by  a  certain  necessity. 

What  is  this  system  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of  these  expe- 
ditions  ? 

You  have  seen  various  German  nations — Goths,  Burgun- 
dians,  Franks,  Lombards,  &c. — established  upon  the  Roman 
territory.  Of  all  these  tribes  or  confederations,  the  Franks 
were  the  strongest,  and  occupied  the  central  position  in  the 
new  establishment.  They  were  not  united  among  themselves 
by  any  political  tie;  they  incessantly  make  war.  Still,  in 
some  respects,  and  whether  they  knew  it  or  not,  their  situation 
was  similar,  and  their  interests  common. 

You  have  seen  that,  from  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, these  new  masters  of  western  Europe,  the  Roman-Ger- 
mans, were  pressed  on  the  north-east,  along  the  Rhine  and 
the  Danube,  by  new  German,  Slavonian,  and  other  tribes  pro- 
ceeding to  the  same  territory ;  on  the  south  by  the  Arabs 
spread  on  all  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  that  thus 
a  two-fold  movement  of  invasion  menaced  with  an  approach- 
ing fall  the  states  but  just  rising  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  Roman 
empire. 

Now  let  us  see  what  was  the  work  of  Charlemagne  in  this 
situation  ;  he  rallied  against  this  two-fold  invasion,  against  the 
new  assailants  who  crowded  upon  the  various  frontiers  of  the 


404  HISTORY   OF 

empire,  all  the  recently-established  inhabitants  of  his  tern, 
tory,  ancient  or  modern,  Romans  or  Germans.  Follow  the 
course  of  his  wars.  He  begins  by  definitively  subduing,  on 
one  side,  the  Roman  population,  who  still  attempted  to  free 
themselves  from  the  barbarian  yoke,  as  the  Aquitani  in  the 
south  of  Gaul ;  on  the  other,  the  later-arrived  German  popu- 
lation, the  establishment  of  whom  was  not  consummated,  as 
the  Lombards  in  Italy,  &c.  He  snatched  them  from  the  vari- 
ous impulsions  which  animated  them,  united  them  all  under 
the  domination  of  the  Franks,  and  turned  them  against  the 
two-fold  invasion,  which,  on  the  north-east  and  south,  menaced 
all  alike.  Seek  a  dominant  fact  which  shall  be  common  to 
all  the  wars  of  Charlemagne ;  reduce  them  all  to  theii  simple 
expression ;  you  will  see  that  their  true  meaning  is,  that  they 
are  the  struggle  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  ancient  empire,  con- 
quering or  conquered,  Romans  or  Germans,  against  the  new 
invaders. 

They  are,  therefore,  essentially  defensive  wars,  brought 
about  by  a  triple  interest  of  territory,  race,  and  religion.  It 
was  the  interest  of  territory  which  especially  broke  out  against 
the  nations  of  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  for  the  Saxons  and 
Danes  were  Germans,  like  the  Franks  and  the  Lombards: 
there  were  Frankish  tribes  among  them,  and  some  learned 
men  think  that  many  pretended  Saxons  may  have  been  only 
Franks,  established  in  Germany.  There  was,  therefore,  no 
diversity  of  race ;  it  was  merely  in  defence  of  the  territory 
that  war  took  place.  The  interest  of  territory  and  the  interest 
of  race  were  united  against  the  wandering  nations  beyond  the 
Elbe,  or  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube,  against  the  Slavonians 
and  the  Avares.  Against  the  Arabs  who  inundated  the  south 
of  Gaul,  there  was  interest  of  territory,  of  race,  and  of  reli- 
gion, all  together.  Thus  did  the  various  causes  of  war  vari- 
ously combine ;  but,  whatever  might  be  the  combinations,  it 
was  always  the  German  Christians  and  Romans,  who  de- 
fended their  nationality,  their  territory,  and  their  religion, 
against  nations  of  another  origin  or  creed,  who  sought  a  soil 
to  conquer.  All  their  wars  have  this  character — all  are  de- 
rived from  this  triple  necessity. 

Charlemagne  had  in  no  way  reduced  this  necessity  into  a 
general  idea  or  theory ;  but  he  understood  and  faced  it :  great 
men  rarely  do  otherwise.  He  faced  it  by  conquest ;  defensive 
war  took  the  offensive  form  ;  he  carried  the  struggle  into  the 
territory  of  nations  who  wished  to  invade  his  own ;  he  labored 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  405 

to  reduce  the  foreign  races,  to  extirpate  the  hostile  creeds. 
Hence  arose  his  mode  of  government,  and  the  foundation  of 
his  empire ;  offensive  war  and  conquest  required  this  vast  and 
formidable  unity. 

At  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  the  conquests  cease,  the  unity 
disappears,  the  empire  is  dismembered  and  falls  to  pieces ;  but 
is  it  true  that  nothing  remained,  that  the  warlike  exploits  of 
Charlemagne  were  absolutely  sterile,  that  he  achieved  nothing, 
founded  nothing  ?  There  is  but  one  way  to  resolve  this  ques- 
tion ;  it  is,  to  ask  ourselves  if,  after  Charlemagne,  the  countries 
which  he  had  governed  found  themselves  in  the  same  situation 
as  before ;  if  the  two-fold  invasions  which,  on  the  north  and 
on  the  south,  menaced  their  territory,  their  religion,  and  -heir 
race,  recommenced  after  being  thus  suspended ;  if  the  Saxons, 
Slavonians,  Avares,  Arabs,  still  kept  the  possessors  of  the 
Roman  soil  in  perpetual  disturbance  and  anxiety.  Evidently 
it  was  not  so ;  true,  the  empire  of  Charlemagne  was  broken 
up,  but  into  separate  states,  which  arose  as  so  many  barriers 
at  all  points  where  there  was  still  danger.  Up  to  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  the  frontiers  of  Germany,  Spain,  and  Italy  were 
in  continual  fluctuation  ;  no  constituted  public  force  had  at- 
tained a  permanent  shape ;  he  was  compelled  to  be  constantly 
transporting  himself  from  one  end  to  the  other  of  his  dominions, 
in  order  to  oppose  to  the  invaders  the  moveable  and  temporary 
force  of  his  armies.  After  him,  the  scene  is  changed  ;  real 
political  barriers,  states  more  or  less  organized,  but  real  and 
durable,  arose  ;  the  kingdoms  of  Lorraine,  of  Germany,  Italy, 
the  two  Burgundies,  Navarre,  date  from  that  time ;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  vicissitudes  of  their  destiny,  they  subsist,  and  suf- 
fice to  oppose  effectual  resistance  to  the  invading  movement. 
Accordingly,  that  movement  ceases,  or  continues  only  in  the 
form  of  maritime  expeditions,  most  desolating  at  the  points 
which  they  reach,  but  which  cannot  be  made  with  great  masses 
of  men,  nor  produce  great  results. 

Although,  therefore,  the  vast  domination  of  Charlemagne 
disappeared  with  him,  it  is  not  true  that  he  founded  nothing ; 
he  founded  all  the  states  which  sprung  from  the  dismember- 
ment of  his  empire.  His  conquests  entered  into  new  combi- 
nations, but  his  wars  attained  their  end  :  the  foundation  of  the 
work  subsisted,  although  its  form  was  changed.  It  is  thus 
that  the  action  of  great  men  is  in  general  exercised.  Charle- 
magne, as  an  administrator  and  legislator,  appears  to  us  under 
tUe  name  aspect. 


406  HISTORY    OF 

His  government  is  more  difficult  to  sum  up  than  his  wara 
Much  has  been  said  of  the  order  which  he  introduced  into  his 
states,  of  the  great  system  of  administration  which  he  attempted 
to  found.  I  indeed  believe  he  attempted  it,  but  he  was  very  far 
from  succeeding  in  his  attempt :  despite  the  unity,  despite  the 
activity  of  his  thought  and  of  his  power,  the  disorder  around 
him  was  immense  and  invincible ;  he  repressed  it  for  a  moment 
on  one  point,  but  the  evil  reigned  wherever  his  terrible  will 
did  not  come ;  and  when  it  had  passed,  recommenced  the 
moment  it  was  at  a  distance.  We  must  not  allow  ourselves 
to  be  deceived  by  words.  Open,  in  the  present  day,  the 
Almanac  Royal ;  you  may  read  the  system  of  the  administra- 
tion of  France :  all  the  powers,  all  the  functionaries,  from  the 
last  step  to  the  most  elevated,  are  there  indicated  and  classed 
according  to  their  relations.  And  there  is  no  illusion — 
the  things  pass,  in  fact,  as  they  are  written ;  the  book  is 
a  faithful  image  of  the  reality.  It  would  be  easy  to  construct 
a  similar  administrative  chart  for  the  empire  of  Charlemagne, 
to  place  in  it  dukes,  counts,  vicars,  centeniers,  sheriffs 
(scabini),  and  to  distribute  them,  hierarchically  organized, 
over  the  territory.  But  this  would  only  be  a  vast  fiction ; 
more  frequently,  in  most  places,  these  magistrates  were 
powerless,  or  themselves  disorderly.  The  effort  of  Charle- 
magne to  institute  them  and  to  make  them  act  was  continual, 
but  as  inoessantly  failed.  Now  that  you  are  warned,  and  on 
your  guard  against  the  systematic  appearances  of  this  govern- 
ment, I  may  sketch  the  features — you  will  not  conclude  too 
much  from  them. 

The  local  government  must  be  distinguished  from  the  cen- 
tral government. 

In  the  provinces,  the  power  of  the  emperor  was  exercised 
by  two  classes  of  agents — one  local  and  permanent,  the  other 
sent  to  a  distance,  and  transitory. 

In  the  first  class  were  included — first,  dukes,  counts,  vicars 
of  courts,  centeniers,  scabini,  all  resident  magistrates  nominated 
by  the  emperor  himself  or  by  his  delegates,  and  charged  in  his 
name  to  raise  forces,  to  render  justice,  to  maintain  order,  to 
receive  tribute  ;  second,  beneficiaries,  or  vassals  of  the  king, 
who  held  from  him,  sometimes  hereditarily,  more  frequently 
for  life,  still  more  frequently  without  any  stipulation  or  rule, 
estates  or  domains,  throughout  the  extent  of  which  they  exer* 
cised,  mostly  in  their  own  name,  partly  in  that  of  the  emperor, 
a  certain  jurisdiction,  and  almost  all  the  rights  of  sovereignty. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


407 


Nothing  was  well  determined  or  very  clear  with  regard  to 
the  situation  of  beneficiaries,  and  the  nature  of  their  power ; 
they  were  at  once  delegates  and  independent,  proprietors  and 
usufructuaries ;  and  one  or  other  of  these  characters  prevailed 
in  them  alternately.  But  however  that  may  be,  they  were, 
without  doubt,  in  habitual  relation  with  Charlemagne,  who 
made  use  of  them  everywhere  in  order  to  convey  and  execute 
his  will. 

Above  the  local  and  resident  agents,  magistrates,  or  benefi- 
ciaries, were  the  missi  dominici,  temporary  ambassadors, 
charged,  in  the  name  of  the  emperor,  to  inspect  the  provinces, 
authorized  to  penetrate  into  conceded  domains,  as  well  as  into 
free  lands,  invested  with  the  right  of  reforming  certain  abuses, 
and  called  upon  to  render  an  account  of  every  thing  to  their 
master.  The  missi  dominici  were  for  Charlemagne,  at  least 
in  the  provinces,  the  principal  medium  of  order  and  adminis- 
tration. 

With  regard  to  the  central  government,  putting  aside  for  a 
moment  the  action  of  Charlemagne  himself,  and  of  his  per- 
sonal counsellors,  that  is  to  say,  with  regard  to  the  true  gov- 
ernment, the  national  assemblies,  to  judge  from  appearances, 
and  if  we  may  believe  almost  all  modern  historians,  occupied 
an  important  place.  They  were,  indeed,  frequent  and  active 
under  his  reign.  The  following  is  a  table  of  those  which  ara 
expressly  mentioned  by  the  chroniclers  of  the  time  : 


1 

Date. 

Place. 

• 

770 

Worms. 

2 

771 

Valenciennes. 

3 

772 

Worms. 

4 

773 

Geneva. 

5 

775 

Duren. 

6 

776 

Worms. 

7 

777 

Paderborn. 

9 

779 

Duren. 

9 

780 

Ehresburg. 

10 

781 

Worms. 

11 

782 

At  the  source  of  the  Lippe. 

12 

785 

Paderborn. 

13 

786 

Worms. 

14 

787 

Ibid. 

15 

783 

Ingelheim. 

16 

789 

Aix-la-Chapelle. 

17 

790 

Worms. 

18 

792 

Katisbon. 

- 

408 


HISTORY    OF 


19 

Date. 

Place. 

793 

Ibid. 

20 

794 

Frankfort. 

21 

795 

Kuffenstein. 

22 

797 

Aix-la-Chapelle.                                       • 

23 

799 

Lippenheim. 

24 

800 

Mayence. 

25 

803 

Ibid. 

26 

804 

At  the  source  of  the  Lippe. 

27 

SOS 

Thionville. 

2S 

806 

Nimeguen. 

29 

807 

Coblentz. 

30 

809 

Aix-la-Chapelle. 

31 

810 

Verden. 

32 

811 

Ibid. 

33 

812 

Boulogne. 

34 

812 

Aix-la-Chapelle. 

35 

813 

Ibid. 

To  know  the  number  and  periodical  regularity  of  these 
great  meetings,  doubtless,  is  something ;  but  what  passed 
within  their  breast,  and  what  was  the  character  of  their 
political  intervention  ?  this  is  an  important  point. 

A  very  curious  monument  remains  upon  this  subject ;  one 
of  the  cotemporaries  and  counsellors  of  Charlemagne,  his 
cousin-german,  Adalhard,  abbot  of  Corbie,  wrote  a  treatise 
entitled  De  Ordine  Pdlatii,  destined  to  make  known  the 
internal  government  of  Charlemagne,  and  more  especially  the 
general  assemblies.  This  treatise  is  lost ;  but,  towards  the 
end  of  the  ninth1  century,  Hincmar,  archbishop  of  Reims,  re- 
produced it  almost  complete  in  a  letter  of  instruction  written 
at  the  request  of  some  great  men  of  the  kingdom,  who  had  had 
recourse  to  his  counsel  for  the  government  of  Carloman,  one 
of  the  sons  of  Louis-le-Begue.  Certainly,  no  document  merits 
more  confidence.     Here  we  read — 

"  It -was  the  custom  of  the  time  to  hold  two  councils  every 

year in  both  of  them,  and  in  order  that  they  might  not 

appear   convoked   without    motive,2   they   submitted   to   the 


i  In  882. 
JVe  quasi  sine  causa  convocari  viderentur.  This  phrase  indicates 
that  most  of  the  members  of  those  assemblies  looked  upon  the 
obligation  of  repairing  thither  as  a  burden  ;  that  they  had  but  little 
desire  to  share  in  the  legislative  power,  and  that  Charlemagne  wished 
to  legitimate  their  convocation  by  giving  them  something  to  do, 
far  rather  than  that  he  subjected  himself  to  the  necessity  of  obtaining 
tb«ir  adhesion. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  409 

examination  and  deliberation  of  the  nobles  ....  and,  in  virtue 
of  the  orders  of  the  king,  the  articles  of  the  law  named  capu 
tula,  which  the  king  himself  had  drawn  up  by  the  inspiration 
of  God,  or  the  necessity  of  which  had  been  made  manifest  tc 
him  in  the  interval  between  the  meetings." 

The  proposition  of  the  capitularies,  or,  to  speak  in  modern 
phraseology,  the  initiative,  therefore,  emanated  from  the 
emperor.  It  must  have  been  so :  the  initiative  is  naturall) 
exercised  by  him  who  wishes  to' regulate,  to  reform,  and  it 
was  Charlemagne  who  had  conceived  this  design.  Still  I 
do  not  doubt  any  the  more  that  the  members  of  assembly 
might  have  made  any  propositions  which  appeared  desirable 
to  them ;  the  constitutional  mistrusts  and  artifices  of  our  times 
were,  certainly,  unknown  to  Charlemagne,  too  sure  of  hi.° 
power  to  fear  the  liberty  of  deliberations,  and  who  saw  ii 
these  assemblies  a  means  of  government  far  more  than  a 
barrier  to  bjs  authority.     I  resume  the  text  of  Hincmar  : 

"  After  having  received  these  communications,  they  deli- 
berated upon  them  one,  two,  three,  or  even  a  greater  number 
of  days,  according  to  the  importance  of  the  matter.  Messen- 
gers from  the  palace,  going  and  coming,  received  their  ques- 
tions and  reported  the  answers ;  and  no  stranger  approached 
the  place  of  their  meeting,  until  the  result  of  their  delibera- 
tions had  been  put  before  the  eyes  of  the  great  prince,  who 
then,  with  the  wisdom  which  he  received  from  God,  adopted 
a  resolution  to  which  all  obeyed." 

The  definitive  resolution  always  depended  therefore  on 
Charlemagne  alone  ;  the  assembly  only  gave  him  information 
and  counsel.     Hincmar  continues  : 

"  The  things,  accordingly,  went  on  thus  for  one,  two,  or 
more  capitularies,  until,  with  the  aid  of  God,  all  the  necessities 
of  the  times  were  provided  for. 

"  While  his  affairs  were  treated  of  in  this  manner  out  of  the 
presence  of  the  king,  the  prince  himself,  amidst  the  multitude 
which  generally  came  to  the  general  councils,  was  occupied 
in  receiving  presents,  saluting  the  most  considerable  men, 
discoursing  with  those  whom  he  rarely  saw,  testifying 
an  affectionate  interest  in  the  more  aged,  making  merry 
with  the  younger ;  and  doing  these  and  similar  things  alike 
for  ecclesiastics  as  for  seculars.  Still,  if  those  who  deli- 
berated upon  matters  submitted  to  their  examination  manifested 
a  desire  therefor,  the  king  repaired  to  them ;  remained  with  them 
as  long  as  they  wished  ;  and  they  reported  to  him  with  com- 


410  HISTORY    OF 

plete  familiarity  what  they  thought  of  everything,  and  what 
were  the  friendly  discussions  which  had  been  raised  among 
them.  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that,  if  the  weather  was 
fine,  all  this  passed  in  the  open  air ;  if  not,  in  distinct  build- 
ings, where  those  who  had  to  deliberate  upon  the  propositions 
of  the  kings  were  separated  from  the  multitude  of  persons 
who  came  to  the  assembly,  and  then  the  less  considerable 
men  could  not  enter.  The  places  destined  for  the  meeting  of 
the  lords  were  divided  into  two  parts,  so  that  the  bishops, 
abbots,  and  priests,  high  in  dignity,  could  be  united  without 
any  mixture  of  the  laity.  In  the  same  way  the  counts  and 
other  principal  men  of  the  state  were  separated,  in  the  morn- 
ing, from  the  rest  of  the  multitude,  until,  the  king  present  or 
absent,  they  were  all  met  together ;  and  the  above-mentioned 
lords,  the  priests  on  their  side,  and  the  laity  on  theirs, 
repaired  to  the  hall  assigned  to  them,  and  where  they 
had  honorably  prepared  their  seats.  When  the  lay  and 
ecclesiastical  lords  were  thus  separated  from  the  multitude,  it 
remained  in  their  option  to  sit  together,  or  separately,  ac- 
cording to  the  affairs  of  which  they  had  to  treat — ecclesias- 
tical, secular,  or  both.  So  if  they  wished  any  one  to  come, 
whether  to  demand  nourishment,  or  to  ask  a  question,  and 
again  to  dismiss  him,  after  having  received  what  they  wanted, 
they  could  do  so.  Thus  passed  the  examination  of  the  affairs 
which  the  king  proposed  to  their  deliberations. 

"  The  second  occupation  of  the  king  was  to  demand  of  every 
one  what  he  had  to  report  to  him,  or  to  teach  him  concerning 
the  part  of  the  kingdom  whence  he  came.  Not  only  was  this 
permitted  to  every  one,  but  they  were  strictly  recommended 
to  inquire,  in  the  intervals  of  the  assemblies,  what  passed 
within  or  without  the  kingdom ;  and  that  they  should  seek  to 
know  this  from  foreigners  as  well  as  countrymen,  enemies  as 
well  as  friends,  sometimes  by  employing  envoys,  and  without 
taking  much  care  as  to  how  the  intelligence  was  acquired.  The 
king  wished  to  know  whether,  in  any  part,  any  corner  of  the 
kingdom,  the  people  murmured  .and  were  agitated,  and  what 
was  the  cause  of  its  agitation,  and  whether  it  had  come  to  a 
disturbance  upon  which  it  was  necessary  that  a  general 
council  should  be  employed,  and  other  similar  details.  He 
also  wished  to  know  if  any  of  the  subdued  nations  thought  of 
revolting ;  if  any  of  those  who  had  revolted  seemed  disposed 
to  submit ;  if  those  who  were  still  independent  menaced  the 
kingdom   with   any  attack,   &c.     Upon   all   these   matters, 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


411 


wherever  a  disturbance  or  a  danger  became  manifest,  he 
principally  asked  what  were  its  motives  or  occasion."1 

I  shall  have  no  need  of  long  reflections  in  order  to  make 
you  recognize  the  true  character  of  these  assemblies ;  it  is 
clearly  shown  in  the  picture  which  has  been  traced  by 
Hincmar.  Charlemagne  alone  fills  it ;  he  is  the  centre  and 
soul  of  all  things ;  it  is  he  who  says  that  the  assemblies  shall 
meet,  that  they  shall  deliberate ;  it  is  he  who  occupies  himself 
about  the  state  of  the  country,  who  proposes  and  sanctions 
laws ;  in  him  reside  the  will  and  impulsion ;  it  is  from  him 
that  all  emanated,  la  order  to  return  to  him.  There  was 
there  no  great  national  liberty,  no  true  public  activity ;  but 
there  was  a  vast  means  of  government.2 

This  means  was  by  no  means  sterile.  Independently  of 
he  force  which  Charlemagne  drew  from  it  for  current  affairs, 
you  have  seen  that  it  was-  there  that  the  capitularies  were 
generally  drawn  up  and  decreed.  In  our  next  lecture  I  shall 
occupy  you  more  especially  with  this  celebrated  legislation. 
I  desire  at  present  merely  to  give  you  an  idea  of  it. 

While  waiting  for  more  details,  here  is  a  table  of  the  ca- 
pitularies of  Charlemagne,  with  their  number,  their  extent, 
and  their  object : 

Tabic  of  the  Capitularies  of  Charlemagne. 


a 

c- 

Date. 

Place. 

o 

!&3 

3.2 

U 

C-2 

4) 

< 

£ 

W|-J 

1 

769 
779 

78S 

18 
23 

8 

l 

15 

7 

17 
8 
1 

2 

3 

4 

789 

Aix-la-Chapelle.. 

80 

19 

61 

5 

Id. 

16 

, . 

16 

0 

Id. 
Id. 

23 
34 

14 
20 

9 
14 

7 

S 

793 

17 

15 

2 

9 

794 

54 

18 

36 

10 

797 

Aix-la-Chapelle.. 

11 

11 

11 

799 

5 

.. 

5 

1  Hincm.  App.  de  Ordine  Palatii,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  201 — 215. 
•  See  mj  Etsais  sur  PHistoire  de  France,  pc  315 — 344. 


412  HISTORY   OF 

Table  of  the  Capitularies  of  Charlemagne — continued. 


Date. 

Before. 

12 

800 

13 

800 

14 

801 

15 

Id. 

10 

Id. 

17 

802 

18 

Id. 

19 

803 

20 

Id. 

21 

Id. 

22 

Id. 

23 

«.  W. 

24 

Id. 

25 

Id. 

26 

Id. 

27 

Id. 

28 

Id. 

29 

804 

Id. 

30 

805 

31 

Id. 

32 

Id. 

33 

Id. 

34 

806 

35 

Id. 

36 

Id. 

37 

Id. 

33 

Id. 

39 

Id. 

40  . 

807 

41 

808 

42 

809 

43 

Id. 

44 

810 

45 

Id. 

46 

Id. 

47 

811 

48 

Id. 

49 

Id. 

Place. 


Aix-la-Chapelle 

Idem 

Idem 

Worms 

Seltz 

Idem 

Thionville 

Idem 

Idem 

Idem 

Nimeguen 

Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Idem 

Idem 


9 

C 

< 

c 
o 

5-1 

>3 

70 

5 

5 

S 

8 

1 

22 

41 

27 

23 

18 

7 

. . 

1» 

•• 

11 

ii 

29 

27 

12 

12 

22 

20 

8 

8 

13 

11 

3 

8 

12 

16 

25 

23 

16 

14 

1 

202 

8 

7 

6 

6 

8 

7 

19 

18 

23 

7 

7 

30 

28 

37 

36 

70 

15 

18 

14 

16 

13 

5 

5 

12 

7 

13 

9 

9 

=  .2 
3  "3     ,°  2 


^-3 


1 

22 
14 
5 
7 
1 
1 

2 

2 

2 
3 
8 
12 
16 
2 
2 
1 


1 

1 
23 

2 
1 
1 
4 
3 

5 
13 


»Domestic  and  Rural  Legislation.    This  is  the  capitulary  Be  Villi*. 
*  Political  Legislation.     Division  of  States. 


CIVILIZATION   IN   FRANCE.  413 

Tabic  of  the  Capitularies  of  Charlemagne — continued. 


50 
51 

52 
53 
54 
55 
56 

57 
58 
59 

60 

Date. 

Place. 

■ 

B 

C 

< 

o 
o 

"6-2 
bD 

Religious 
Legislation. 

812 
Id. 
Id. 
813 
Id. 
Id. 
Date  un- 
certain. 

Id. 
Id. 
Id. 
Id. 

9 
11 
13 
28 
20 
46 
59 

14 

13 

13 

9 

9 
11 
13 

9 
19 
46 
26 

12 

19 
1 

33 

14 
13 

1 
9 

Aix-la-Chapelle.. 

i. 

1126 

621 

415 

Surely  such  a  table  gives  evidence  of  great  legislative  ac 
tivity  ;  and  yet  it  says  nothing  of  the  revision  which  Charle 
magne  caused  to  be  made  of  the  ancient  barbarous  laws, 
especially  the  Salic  and  Lombard  laws.  In  fact,  activity,  an 
universal  indefatigable  activity,  the  desire  to  think  of  every, 
thing,  of  introducing  everywhere  at  once  animation  and  rule, 
is  the  true,  the  great  characteristic  of  the  government  of 
Charlemagne — the  character  which  he  himself,  and  he  alone, 
impressed  on  his  times.  I  am  about  to  place  before  you  a 
new  proof  of  this.  This  was  not  a  time  (allow  me  the  ex- 
pression) for  much  writing  and  scribbling ;  of  a  surety,  the 
multitude  of  official  acts  drawn  up  under  a  reign  would  not 
prove  any  great  things  in  favor  of  the  genius  of  a  monarch 
in  the  present  day.  It  was  different  with  those  of  Charle- 
magne.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  large  number  of 
public  acts  of  all  kinds  which  have  come  down  to  us  from 
it,  is  an  incontestible  testimony  of  the  immense  and  conta- 
gious activity,  which  was,  perhaps,  his  greatest  superiority  and 
his  surest  power.  The  following  is  a  table  and  classification 
of  those  acts — of  those,  at  least,  which  have  been  printed  in 
learned  collections.  Many  others  are  doubtless  lost ;  others 
perhaps,  remain  in  manuscript,  and  unknown. 


414 


HISTORY   OF 


Table  of  the  Principal  Diplomas,  Documents,  Letters,  and  Variotu 
Acts  emanated  from  Charlemagne  or  other  great  men,  Lay  or  JSc- 


lesiasti 

cal,  % 

mder  h 

is  Me 

tgn. 

TO 

a 
| 

•"c  9 

tj  o 

a  **   . 

»j 

4) 

a 

S 

B 
C 

a 
£ 

TO 

c 
9 

O 

>    0) 

sg 

O  <u 

f'JS 

SI 

o 

so 

nations  a 
ncessions 
urches. 

nations  a 
ncessions 
masteries 

TO 

E 

c 

TO 

3 

a 

s 

(M 

Cw 

«o 

o 

o    O.J=i 

o  6  & 

o 

3 

q 

5 

o 

o 

«< 

<3 

Poo 

flug 

»3 

> 

769 

23 

6 

17 

,  t 

3 

4 

14 

2 

770 

16 

3 

13 

5 

8 

3 

771 

9 

1 

8 

2 

. . 

7 

772 

33 

7 

26 

1 

2 

12 

16 

1 

1 

773 

18 

2 

16 

2 

9 

6 

. . 

1 

774 

21 

7 

14 

2 

1 

3 

n 

6 

2 

775 

19 

8 

11 

. . 

2 

6 

7 

4 

776 

20 

4 

16 

. . 

1 

3 

10 

4 

2 

777 

18 

4 

14 

1 

5 

11 

1 

778 

16 

5 

11 

6 

8 

2 

779 

19 

6 

13 

1 

2 

8 

8 

780 

10 

3 

7 

2 

2 

5 

1 

781 

12 

6 

6 

2 

2 

1 

5 

,  # 

2 

782 

21 

6 

15 

. . 

, . 

6 

4 

9 

2 

783 

11 

1 

10 

. . 

, , 

4 

5 

2 

784 

6 

1 

5 

, . 

. . 

2 

2 

_  # 

2 

785 

15 

. . 

15 

. . 

1 

, , 

7 

6 

1 

786 

15 

4 

11 

2 

4 

. . 

6 

2 

1 

787 

26 

10 

16 

2 

6 

3 

5 

9 

1 

788 

27 

3 

24 

3 

2 

2 

12 

7 

1 

739 

16 

7 

9 

3 

2 

1 

6 

1 

3 

790 

22 

11 

11 

2 

3 

2 

14 

1 

791 

20 

1 

19 

. , 

1 

4 

12 

2 

1 

792 

7 

1 

6 

. . 

1 

1 

5 

793 

28 

3 

25 

4 

1 

1 

7 

12 

3 

794 

20 

8 

12 

. . 

7 

4 

4 

3 

2 

795 

14 

3 

11 

, . 

1 

3 

5 

3 

2 

796 

32 

4 

28 

, , 

2 

3 

15 

11 

1  ' 

797 

15 

8 

7 

4 

1 

3 

5 

2 

798 

21 

2 

19 

1 

2 

2 

10 

5 

1 

799 

27 

3 

24 

1 

4 

4 

6 

6 

6 

800 

23 

6 

17 

3 

3 

12 

1 

4 

801 

23 

5 

18 

1 

3 

4 

13 

2 

802 

30 

13 

17 

4 

8 

3 

9 

5 

1 

803 

26 

15 

11 

7 

3 

7 

7 

2 

804 

3S 

5 

33 

2 

2 

9 

24 

1 

805 

15 

6 

9 

2 

2 

4 

7 

806 

25 

8 

17 

5 

2 

3 

13 

1 

1 

807 

33 

3 

30 

1 

1 

11 

10 

2 

8 

I    808 

29 

3 

26 

1 

•  • 

17 

7 

3 

1 

CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


41ft 


Table  of  the  Principal  Diplomas,  Sfc. — continued. 


V 

t- 

9) 

e 

a 

B 
I 

a 

V 

B 

O 

1 

GO 

E 
O 

6a 

■si 

GO    O 

S 
be  e 

%  S 
P5  a 

Cm     QJ 

o  >. 

nations  and 
ncessions  to 
urches. 

nations  and 
ncessions  to 
nasteries. 

01 

E 

CO 

O 

0] 

D 

o 

0 

& 

o 

O 

•< 

o  o..c 

flou 

fiuS 

ti 

w 

rf 

809 

15 

5 

10 

3 

2 

5 

1 

4 

810 

19 

6 

13 

3 

. . 

1 

5 

8 

1 

811 

27 

5    • 

22 

4 

1 

7 

14 

. . 

1 

812 

19 

7 

12 

5 

. . 

1 

10 

. . 

3 

813 

42 

13 

29 

4 

6 

6 

26 

814 

10 

7 

1 

2 

Vear    an- 

certain. 

194 

19 

175 

4 

2 

129 

27 

21 

11 

745 

257 

87S 

80 

87 

322 

428 

155 

73 

Note. — The  elements  of  this  table  are  taken  from  the  "  History  of 
the  Germanic  Empire"  of  Count  Biinau,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  872 — 930;  Leip- 
zick,  1732. 

Such  are  the  facts — at  least,  such  are  the  frames  in  which 
they  are  placed.  Now,  I  here  reproduce  the  question  which 
I  raised  just  now  concerning  the  wars  of  Charlemagne.  Is  it 
true,  is  it  possible,  that  of  this  government,  so  active  and 
vigorous,  nothing  remained — that  all  disappeared  with  Char- 
lemagne— that  he  founded  nothing  for  the  internal  consolidation 
of  society  ? 

What  fell  with  Charlemagne,  what  rested  upon  him  alone, 
and  could  not  survive  him,  was  the  central  government. 
After  continuing  some  time  under  Louis  le  Debonnaire  and 
Charles  le  Chauve,  but  with  less  and  less  energy  and  influ- 
ence, the  general  assemblies,  the  missi  dominici,  the  whole 
machinery  of  the  central  and  sovereign  administration,  dis- 
appeared. Not  so  the  local  government,  the  dukes,  counts, 
vicaires,  centeniers,  beneficiaries,  vassals,  who  held  authority 
in  their  several  neighborhoods  under  the  rule  of  Charle- 
magne. Before  his  time,  the  disorder  had  been  as  great  in 
each  locality  as  in  the  commonwealth  generally ;  landed  pro- 
perties, magistracies  were  incessantly  changing  hands ;  nc 


416  HISTORY    OF 

local  positions  or  influences  possessed  any  steadiness  or  per 
manence.  During  the  forty-six  years  of  his  government^ 
these  influences  had  time  to  become  rooted  in  the  same  soil, 
in  the  same  families ;  they  had  acquired  stability,  the  first 
condition  of  the  progress  which  was  destined  to  render  them 
independent  and  hereditary,  and  make  them  the  elements  of 
the  feudal  regime.  Nothing,  certainly,  less  resembles  feu. 
dalism  than  the  sovereign  unity  which  Charlemagne  aspired 
to  establish ;  yet  he  is  the  true  founder  of  feudal  society  •  it 
was  he  who,  by  arresting  the  external  invasions,  and  repress* 
ing,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  intestine  disorders,  gave  to  local 
situations,  fortunes,  influences,  sufficient  time  to  take  real 
possession  of  the  country.  After  him,  his  general  govern- 
ment  perished  like  his  conquests  ;  his  unity  of  authority  like 
his  extended  empire ;  but  as  the  empire  was  broken  into 
separate  states,  which  acquired  a  vigorous  and  durable  life, 
so  the  central  sovereignty  of  Charlemagne  resolved  itself 
into  a  multitude  of  local  sovereignties,  to  which  a  portion  of 
the  strength  of  his  government  had  been  imparted,  and  which 
had  acquired  under  its  shelter  the  conditions  requisite  for 
reality  and  durability ;  so  that  in  this  second  point  of  view, 
in  his  civil  as  well  as  military  capacity,  if  we  look  beyond 
first  appearances,  he  accomplished  and  founded  much. 

I  might  show  him  to  you  accomplishing  and  leaving  analo- 
gous results  in  the  church  ;  there  also  he  arrested  dissolution, 
until  his  time  always  increasing  :  there  also  he  gave  society 
time  to  rest,  to  acquire  some  consistency  and  to  enter  upon 
new  paths.  But  time  presses  :  I  have  yet  at  present  to  speak 
o  '  the  influence  of  Charlemagne  in  the  intellectual  order,  and 
of  the  place  occupied  by  his  reign  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind ;  scarcely  shall  I  be  able  to  point  out  the  principal 
features. 

It  is  more  difficult  here  than  anywhere  else  to  sum  up 
facts  and  present  them  in  a  table.  The  acts  of  Charlemagne 
in  favor  of  moral  civilization  form  no  entirety,  manifest  no 
systematic  form ;  they  are  isolated,  scattered  acts ;  at  times 
the  foundation  of  certain  schools,  at  times  measures  taken  for 
the  improvement  of  ecclesiastical  offices,  and  the  progress  of 
the  knowledge  which  depends  on  them  ;  also  general  recom- 
mendations for  the  instruction  of  priests  and  laymen  ;  but 
most  frequently  an  eager  protection  of  distinguished  men,  and 
a  particular  care  to  surround  himself  with  them. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE. 


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CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  421 

There  is  nothing  systematic,  nothing  that  can  he  estimate:) 
by  the  mere  juxtaposition  of  figures  and  words.  I  wish,  how 
ever,  with  a  touch,  and  without  entering  into  details,  to  place 
before  you  some  facts  which  may  give  you  an  idea  of  that  kind 
of  action  of  Charlemagne,  of  which  more  is  said  than  is  known. 
It  appears  to  me  that  a  table  of  the  celebrated  men  who  were 
born  and  died  under  his  reign — that  is,  of  the  celebrated  men 
whom  he  employed,  and  those  whom  he  made — would  tend 
efficiently  towards  this  end  ;  this  body  of  names  and  of  works 
may  be  taken  as  a  decided  proof,  and  even  as  a  correct 
estimate  of  the  influence  of  Charlemagne  over  minds. 

Surely  such  a  table  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  at  this  epoch, 
and  under  the  star  of  Charlemagne,  intellectual  activity  was 
great.  Recall  to  your  minds  the  times  from  whence  we  set 
out ;  call  to  mind  that  from  the  sixth  to  the  eighth  century, 
we  had  great  difficulty  in  finding  any  names,  any  works  ;  that 
sermons  and  legends  were  almost  the  only  monuments  which 
we  encountered.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  you  see  reappear, 
and  that  almost  at  once,  philosophical,  historical,  philological, 
and  critical  writings  ;  you  find  yourself  in  the  presence  of 
study  and  science — that  is  to  say,  of  pure  and  disinterested 
intellectual  activity,  of  the  real  movement  of  mind.  I  shall 
soon  discuss  with  you,  in  a  more  detailed  manner,  the  men 
and  the  works  I  have  just  named,  and  you  will  see  that  they 
truly  commence  a  new  epoch,  and  merit  the  most  serious 
attention. 

Now,  I  ask,  have  we  a  right  to  say  that  Charlemagne  has 
founded  nothing,  that  nothing  remains  of  his  works  ?  I  have 
merely  given  you  a  glimpse,  as  in  a  transient  panorama,  of 
their  principal  results  ;  and  yet  their  permanence  is  thus 
shown  therein  as  clearly  as  their  grandeur.  It  is  evident 
that,  by  his  wars,  by  his  government,  and  by  his  action  upon 
minds,  Charlemagne  has  left  the  most  profound  traces ;  that 
if  many  of  the  things  he  did  perished  with  him,  many  others 
have  survived  him  ;  that  western  Europe,  in  a  word,  left  his 
hands  entirely  different  from  what  it  was  when  he  received 
it. 

What  is  the  general  dominant  character  of  this  change,  of 
the  crisis  over  which  Charlemagne  presided  ? 

Take  in  at  one  view,  that  history  of  the  civilization  in 
France  under  the  Merovingian  kings  which  we  have  just  stu- 
died ;  it  is  the  history  of  a  constant,  universal  decline.  In 
individual  man  as  in  society,  in  the  religious  society  as  in 


422  HISTORY    OF 

civil  society,  everywhere  we  have  seen  anarchy  and  weak, 
ness  extending  itself  more  and  more ;  we  liave  seen  every 
thing  become  enervated  and  dissolved,  both  institutions  ano 
ideas,  what  remained  of  the  Roman  world  and  what  tbe  Ger- 
mans  had  introduced.  Up  to  the  eighth  century,  nothing  of 
what  had  formerly  been  could  continue  to  exist ;  nothing 
which  seemed  to  dawn  could  succeed  in  fixing  itself. 

Dating  from  Charlemagne,  the  face  of  things  changes ;  de- 
cay is  arrested,  progress  recommences.  Yet  for  a  long  period 
the  disore^r  will  be  enormous,  the  progress  partial,  but  little 
visible,  or  often  suspended.  This  matters  not :  we  shall  no 
more  encounter  those  long  ages  of  disorganization,  of  always 
increasing  intellectual  sterility  :  through  a  thousand  suffer- 
ings, a  thousand  interruptions,  we  shall  see  power  and  life 
revive  in  man  and  in  society.  Charlemagne  marks  the  limit 
at  which  the  dissolution  of  the  ancient  Roman  and  barbarian 
world  is  consummated,  and  where  really  begins  the  formation 
of  modern  Europe,  of  the  new  world.  It  was  under  his  reign, 
and  as  it  were  under  his  hand,  that  the  shock  took  place  by 
which  European  society,  turning  right  round,  left  the  paths 
of  destruction  to  enter  those  of  creation. 

If  you  would  know  truly  what  perished  with  him,  and 
what,  independently  of  the  changes  of  form  and  appearance,  is 
the  portion  of  his  works  which  did  not  survive  him,  if  I  mis- 
take not,  it  is  this  : 

In  opening  this  course,  the  first  fact  which  presented  itself 
to  your  eyes,  the  first  spectacle  at  which  we  were  present, 
was  that  of  the  old  Roman  empire  struggling  with  the  barba- 
rians. The  latter  triumphed  ;  they  destroyed  the  Empire. 
In  combating  it,  they  respected  it ;  no  sooner  had  they  des- 
troyed it,  than  they  aspired  to  reproduce  it.  All  the  great 
barbaric  chiefs,  Ataulphe,  Theodoric,  Euric,  Clovis,  showed 
themselves  full  of  the  desire  of  succeeding  to  the  Roman  em- 
perors, of  adapting  their  tribes  to  the  frame  of  that  society 
which  they  had  conquered.  None  of  them  succeeded  there- 
in ;  none  of  them  contrived  to  resuscitate  the  name  and  forms 
of  the  empire,  even  for  a  moment ;  they  were  overcome  by 
that  torrent  of  invasion,  by  that  general  course  of  dissolution 
which  carried  all  things  before  it ;  barbarism  incessantly  ex- 
tended and  renewed  itself,  but  the  Roman  empire  was  still 
present  to  all  imagination  ;  it  was  between  barbarism  and 
Roman  civilization  that,  in  all  minds  of  any  compass  at  all, 
the  question  lay. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    FRANCE.  423 

It  was  still  in  this  position  when  Charlemagne  appeared  ; 
he  also,  he  especially  nursed  the  hope  of  resolving  it,  as  all 
the  great  barbarians  who  went  before  him  had  wished  to  re- 
solve  it, — that  is  to  say  by  reconstituting  the  empire.  What 
Diocletian,  Constantine,  Julian,  had  attempted  to  maintain 
with  the  old  wrecks  of  the  Roman  legions,  that  is,  the  strug- 
gle  against  the  invasion,  Charlemagne  undertook  to  do  with 
Franks,  Goths,  and  Lombards :  he  occupied  the  same  terri- 
tory ;  he  proposed  to  himself  the  same  design.  Without,  and 
almost  always  on  the  same  frontiers,  he  maintained  the  samt 
struggle  ;  within,  he  restored  its  name  to  the  empire,  he  at« 
tempted  to  bring  back  the  unity  of  its  administration ;  he 
placed  the  imperial  crown  upon  his  head.  Strange  contrast ! 
He  dwelt  in  Germany ;  in  war,  in  national  assemblies,  in  the 
interior  of  his  family,  he  acted  as  a  German  ;  his  personal 
nature,  his  language,  his  manners,  his  external  form,  his  way 
of  living,  were  German ;  and  not  only  were  they  German, 
but  he  did  not  desire  to  change  them.  "  He  always  wore," 
says  Eginhard,  "  the  habit  of  his  fathers,  the  habit  of  the 
Franks.  .  .  .  Foreign  costumes,  however  rich,  he  scorned, 
and  suffered  no  one  to  be  clothed  with  them.  Twice  only 
during  the  stay  which  he  made  at  Rome,  first  at  the  request 
of  pope  Adrian,  and  then  at  the  solicitation  of  Leo,  the  suc- 
cessor of  that  pontiff,  he  consented  to  wear  the  long  tunic,  the 
chlamys,  and  the  Roman  sandal."  He  was,  in  fact,  com- 
pletely German,  with  the  exception  of  the  ambition  of  his 
thought ;  it  was  towards  the  Roman  empire,  towards  Roman 
civilization  that  it  tended ;  that  was  what  he  desired  to  estab- 
lish, with  barbarians  as  his  instruments. 

This  was,  in  him,  the  portion  of  egoism  and  illusion  ;  and 
in  this  it  was  that  he  failed.  The  Roman  empire,  and  its 
unity,  were  invincibly  repugnant  to  the  new  distribution  of 
the  population,  the  new  relations,  the  new  moral  condition 
of  mankind  ;  Roman  civilization  could  only  enter  as  a  trans- 
formed element  into  the  new  world  which  was  preparing. 
This  idea,  the  aspiration  of  Charlemagne,  was  not  a  public 
idea,  nor  a  public  want ;  all  that  he  did  fpr  its  accomplish- 
ment perished  with  him.  Yet  even  of  this  vain  endeavor 
something  remained.  The  name  of  the  western  empire, 
revived  by  him,  and  the  rights  which  were  thought  to  be 
attached  to  the  title  of  emperor,  resumed  their  place  among 
the  elements  of  history,  and  were  for  several  centuries  longer 
an  object  of  ambition,  an  influencing   principle  of  events. 


424  HISTORY   OF 

Even,  therefore,  in  the  purely  egoistical  and  ephemera, 
portion  of  his  operations,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  ideas  of 
Charlemagne  were  absolutely  sterile,  nor  totally  devoid  of 
duration. 

Here  we  must  stop ;  the  way  is  long,  and  I  have  proceedea 
so  quickly  that  J  have  hardly  had  time  to  describe  the  princi- 
pal events  of  the  journey.  It  is  difficult,  it  is  fatiguing  to 
have  to  compress  within  a  few  pages  what  filled  the  life  of  a 
great  man.  I  have  as  yet  only  been  able  to  give  you  a 
general  idea  of  the  r«ign  of  Charlemagne,  and  of  his  place  in 
the  history  of  our  civilization.  I  shall  probably  employ  many 
of  the  following  lectures  in  making  you  acquainted  with  him 
under  certain  special  relations ;  though  I  shall  be  very  far 
from  doing  justice  to  the  subject. 


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